How long must thugs roam free to kill
To rape, to rob and drugs to deal?
To lock them up Reid's weak in will
These base, foul brutes whose victims now reel
From torment and grief, their lives sore wrecks.
But to his post he clings to prove
He'll fix the farce of ill done checks
And raise our hopes; be swift to move.
Yet still he boasts his laws are tough
While on stats rise to show this hell
That all his claims are spin, such guff.
His cabal of crooks for power would sell
Their souls God called to be His own.
In this world two and two makes five
The age of ungood will choke seed sown
By those who desire that truth should thrive.
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