Please Police Me

I had a dream.
I dreamt they were coming for me.
Men in uniform. Wearing peaked caps.

They were striding up my street.
I knew they'd knock on my door
and drag me from my sleep.

They'd ask
'What do you think you're playing at?
What do you think you're doing
writing stuff like that?

Who on earth do you think you are?
A superstar?'

I'm not too sure who they are.
Soldiers? Police?

I do know they have a traffic warden mentality
and that, for them,
everything is black and white.

And I do know, of course I know,
I say, as they get out their big sticks
to beat me,
that they are always right.

Though, even in my sleep,
I know that they are not.