Criminal Lyrics

Alix Olson Criminal

They sat me down
In the big green police chair
With a big green light cornering my soul
They said:
You tell us who’s the boogey man, ma’am
You point out the Criminal
And they tell me they can tell I’m a
First-class, top-notch, jury-duty, law-abiding
Kind of chick
So, I flash my big, bright smile, I say:
Well, I’m glad that’s what you think
And they hand me a box of composites
Stacked in some kind of alphabetical caste
Where last names don’t seem to matter
Goes from A to Black to Blacker
But I’m a model-citizen and
Model-citizens don’t cause kinks
Yes, I’m a model-citizen
So I sit my top-notch ass down to think
In the morning paper, they say:
Those spam-eating spics
Are out to scam your family
Yeah, they’ll rob your job
Soak up the last three drops in this
Trickle down, down
Down-under country
Well, while big-business takes its little piggies
To market
By keeping us dependent
The morning paper says:
The Criminal’s
The Immigrant
And on the four o’clock pop-rock talk show, Joe says:
Yeah, a dyke is easy to spot
She looks like a man, talks like a man, acts like a man, Yeah
But she’s sure as hell not
And all the other guests say:
Yeah, Joe, I think she’s out to get your woman
And by five o’clock, all the other Joe’s in America know
The Criminal’s
The Lesbian
And on the TV News, it’s:
Poor Black Women (colon) The Expert Opinion
And all these white male scholars saying:
Well, she shouldn’t have a baby if she can’t feed him
But she shouldn’t have an abortion either
She should just know better
You see, knowledge is power
Yeah, but power is money and
Money’s what matters
And in the New York Times
It’s handcuffed protestors in Seattle
And the headline reads:
Angry Activists Start a Battle
And the World Bank Leaders and the WTO
And Disney and Visa and Mansanto
And Goodyear and Texaco
All smile and say:
Sure is nice to own the paper on a day like today!
So, I’m sitting in the big, green police chair
With a big, green light cornering my soul
They say:
You tell us who’s the boogey man, ma’am
You point out the criminal
So I finger the composites stacked in my hand
I flash my big, bright model-citizen smile
I say:
I’m sorry Sir
But the criminal
Ain’t in this pile