I will not meet you in St. Louis,
The thugs have ta’en the streets,
I mean the “thin line” bold and bluey,
The blue boys on their beats.
The right to protest in St. Louis
Is cast into the gutter,
The Constitution is a hooey,
Miranda rights mere clutter.
The right to murder in St. Louis,
To supersede all laws,
Belongs to one band, eyes bedewy,
The world seen through a gauze.
I know that down there in St. Louis
The world feels gone amuck,
Justice viewed crosswise something screwy
When courts disperse bad luck.
Still, it is not just in St. Louis
The word is “escalate”
Preached to police—but let’s Free Huey
And put the lid on hate.