In Canberra’s heart, where dreams take flight,

A kindergarten parliament plays by night,

With crayons and laughter, they draft the laws,

While the echo of reason fades, without pause.

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A Keystone cop with a badge so bright,

Stumbles through shadows, avoiding the light,

The public servants, cloaked in their guise,

Dance on the edge of deceit and lies.

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Justice, a mask that they wear with pride,

Hides the corruption festering inside,

And yet, in the fields where the locals cheer,

A flicker of glory for the minor sphere.

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Insignificant victories, they raise to the sky,

Local heroes born from a simple bye-bye,

In a city of make-believe, where truth is a game,

Canberra’s facade wears a glittering shame.