Petey Wilson was power-mad
Had the fever and had it bad.
Just to lock up the homeboy crew,
Ev’ry sou, Petey blew;
Came the election, and Petey knew
Just exactly what he could do
To play ‘em for fools — they’d forget about schools —
There’s enough fear to push this right through.
Take me in with the crime game
Make me a hit with the crowd,
Buy me more guards and more prison space,
I don’t care if we bankrupt this place.
Oh, they’ll root, root, root for the crime team,
We’ll win, because we’ve no shame;
For it’s one, two, three strikes, we’re in
With the old crime game.
Petey Wilson knew all the games,
From fear and racism he could gain;
On affirmative action, or immigration,
He’d score, even more.
Playing up to the far, far right,
Throwing out raw meat, he hoped they’d bite —
He may look like a wimp, but our Petey’s no simp:
“Lock ‘em up” could unlock the White House door.
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