His power is limited, there's restriction.

Many there are, that escape conviction.

A battle of wits against criminal minds,

and then so many of different kinds.

There are those that hold in cold contempt,

he that protects them as sweet dreams they dreamt.

Without his presence upon the scene,

terror would reign, in our cities supreme.

He is used and abused, then cast away.

He doesn't want pity, just a little more pay.

The cream of the nation joins its ranks.

From the public they rarely get any thanks.

Justice with mercy, he tries to weld,

but the means from him, are often withheld.

His life is often hard and cruel,

but in every case, he must keep cool.

Down darkened streets where danger lies,

for help, he rushes to those cries.

Sometimes his gun, he's forced to use:

between life and death he then must choose.

Many would like him out the way.

Against him a viscious attitude they display.

Those evil doctrines in high places contrived,

the investigation, some never survived.

A sympathetic ear he has often turned,

to those by society unjustly spurned.

With harsh reality, he has much to do,

and yet, he has feelings, like me and you.

He is not very often as a hero seen,

yet being a policeman, is some schoolboys dream.

For his heart to win people should strive,

it may be through him, that you're still alive.