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>Office highly decorated
>Plastic frames around diplomas, all the commendations
>Accommodating swivel chair where the blue-suited sir sits slumped
>Brains splattered, wall stained, grey matter runs
>Badge with his name makes blood on the tongue
>'Cause it's pinned to his right cheek
>Right where the gun must have first flirted before it was stuck in his mouth
>Officer *bleep* with his brains blown out
>Water pitcher with the ice, two glasses, one either side
>Of the desk, the lipstick left on one appears to smile wide
>And the slanted blinds are squinting just enough for the sunrise
>To zebra stripe the room with light, he would have had to shield his eyes
>But they wide open, no motion, no, he never flinched
>Palms flat on the table, didn't seem to move an inch
>Fishbowl on the far side of the room where goldfish swims around
>Suspicious of the gun that now sits in the bowl with him
