Seeking Direction

Roman, Roman,
You little Polanski
You left the country
When the verdict was chancy

Your life as been troubled
And sadness sealed your fate
With the horrible murder
Of your wife, Sharon Tate

Having sex with a child
With or without her consent
Is considered Statutory RAPE
By our government

When you ran away
And fled over to France
Even admitting that
You couldn’t keep it, in your pants

You’re a famous director
And a real wealthy guy
For people like you
The laws don’t apply?




Since you’re so talented
And a celebrity of sorts
Your fate is too important
To be decided, by our courts

So when trial was convening
You chose to run
Never facing the crime
That you had just done

But you have great vision
You’re a artistic dreamer
But the crime you committed
Was no misdemeanor

Don’t run away
Like a scared little kid
Come back and face up
To the things, that you did

So be a real man
And confront all your past
Come back and face your accusers
And show some REAL CLASS