The suspended officer is back again
Mere dance of pen and paper
Look through the glass and he finds the chair
His powerful chair , his forever.
 
Or for just a few years more
Before his wet socks get sore
Before his tie gets too rough
His guilty sinew ,weaker than tough.
 
Gullible to mind , credulous to soul
His heart was dead long ,no humour left to troll
He lives a necro-monger
Poor mortals shouts
Bribe , harassment , ambrosia
The toughest odd-one-out.
 
Yet lied a story behind the scene
The transition of crime ,from out or within.
Did he see his old mom killed?
Poverty , fame , poverty , shame
Life he knew needs him, life is THE game.
 
The stars can hide in the clearest skies
There is more to it than meets the eyes....