© 2012 Oliver John-Rodgers (OJR) 


Hey, Mr. Policeman 

You don't make the rules 

No, you just bend them 

Modified enforcement 

To hell with the truth 

Just throw it in your big van 

How useful are your guns when 

Those who make a difference can do it with pens? 

Hey, Mr. Policeman 

Thank you for sweeping up old Manhattan 

The kids are smoking weed again 

But you wouldn't know without entrapment 

Hey, Mr. Policeman 

I'd pour out my drink, but I can't with cuffed hands 


Hey, Mr. Policeman 

Get all loud while you silence our streets 

I'd love to go out there 

But you've gone and turned the park into a damn armory 

You run every red light and 

You grab your baton if anyone makes a peep 

Stick up for yourself, man 

The mayor is king and you're a peasant like me 

Hey, Mr. Policeman (tell me!) 

Where's the public service in a private army? 

Help your despot buy a fourth term 

If New York is still here when he's finished with three 


And you say 

That it's not every apple that's bad 

And you say 

"'41 Shots' gave us all a bad rap" 

And you say 

You know real good men who wear the gold badge 

And you say 

You didn't pat him down just 'cause his skin is black 

And you say 

You spy on Muslims just to stop an attack 

Well hey now 

I spy a guy who must've been bullied in class 

Because you're flexing your muscles 

And you're calling us fags 

And you're laughing with your partner 

Shoutin', "Spray that old hag!" 

And when the people cry for change 

You go arrest 'em in packs 

700 of us on a bridge 

Let no one slip through the cracks 

And then claim 

That it's 'cause the traffic just can't be backed 

But when a movie is filming 

I see no actor get sacked