It's true your life should be quite free,

Of inquests to your privacy

There should not be a way to vex

You with discussions of your sex.

But 'ere you claim our sympathy,

Let's look at what you've done for we.

You signed a law to cause regret

For what we do on Internet.

And Feds can knock down my front door,

If they think I'm in their drug war.

Remote phone taps by FBI

that need not pass a judge's eye;

You seek to sweep from wire tap laws

The nuisance of probable cause.

It's not enough to tap our homes,

You want to hear our mobile phones.

Not quite content to have men fired,

Their lives in charges you have mired.

And if I want to code my speech,

Into my hard drive you would reach,

The data that belongs to me,

You want a copy of my key.

And if through airports I should travel,

My luggage there can be unraveled.

Because a helicopter blundered

And missile launched at flight eight hundred.

Special Prosecutor - was to be

Reserved just for your enemies

A law you gladly did renew

Not thinking he'd be used on you.

A man could not be forced to tell

Of willing women he loved well.

Until you made it relevant

To sex harassment arguments.

It's probative: who else you saw;

And you're the one who signed the law.

The privacy of common man

You've tried to banish from our land.

So I'm not sad that your bad luck

Has brought you here, where now you're

             subject to poetic justice.

Copyright 1998 Chris Garvey