Prayers Pay

The raiders hit early this morning, banging the door about 4 AM,
me groggily peeking out, a subpoena wadded into my shirt,
grinning like shit, saying you're fucked this time
Johnny Wee-dick

The black suits took all of it, computers, backup disks, tapes,
printers, scanners, and plotters, fuck, even the phones
and message box -- jeez, why those?

Harassment, teaching you a lesson, Bess my shark phones
just now, They shut your business down, take weeks to
rummage the equipment and data, give it back slowly,
one at a time, no hurry wanting you to ache in case they find
nothing. Swift justice, she hisses, even if you're innocennt,
cause nobody really is, they want you to scream,
use you to broadcast a scare.

Fuckups are getting gutted all over that Net Playboytoy.
Six others this week, Bess coughs on, dragging deep, it's
gonna rain even heavier in Exon's maelstrom, sweet darling
maryjesus, Prayers pay.

Originally posted to the cypherpunks list on the 7th of December 1995 by Anonymous

William Knowles erehwon@dis.org
Last updated 4.23.1999