There once was a man from Crete
Name was Peter but went by Pete
He tried hard to be discreet
When he went out to get a bite to eat
But as he walked down the street
Some street rioters he did meet
They didn't seem so sweet
He tried to avoid this meet and greet
He walked sideways and shuffled his feet
They stood in his way and blocked Ole Pete
The mob laughed as they turned up the heat
These rioters who are paid by the "Elite"
Looters who loot and aren't so neat
A little different than peaceful Crete
Tares of our nation among the wheat
They pushed him down to have a seat
There Pete got punched and beat
For no reason they gnashed their teeth
No consequences for beating Pete
No discipline from the "Elite"
Turning a blind eye on the street
Until Pete's beating was complete
No justice for innocent Pete
No sympathy for the man from Crete
We can share and post and tweet
But over and over the story repeats
We've lost protection on our streets
The innocent voice is obsolete
Only now racist cries of deceit
Raining down on us like sleet
Hide the true motives under a sheet
While Marxists yell for us to retreat
And if they continue to get paid by the elite
Justice will continue to take a back seat
And forgotten will be those like Pete
And sadly the story will again repeat