Alix Olson - Criminal lyrics

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-cla**, 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 a** 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