That Mouth must be running scared
Arresting people, for even breathing air
The Buzzards friends, now off the street
This lady was just running, on the wardens beat
Yes track shoes, were on her feet
Heading to the BBQ, she likes buzzard meat
Ran into the warden, her day ended with a bang
Got arrested, as part of the Buzzards gang
Now here she sits, in this jail cell
A feeling I'm afraid, I do know so well
A poor victim, of these unforgiving times
When a simple flyby, can be seen as a crime
If this poem hasn't yet, brought a tear
Well I guess, there's no hope for me I fear