There he stands, the head of a powerful nation.
A Hindenburg headed for conflageration
A burnt orange mind of rust
wearing a weaving, pompadour bust
Such a boob to think he's all the world's sensation.
He's got a base that wallows in arrogant loathing
if your pigment don't match the royal cards he's holding
So blind to see the hungry hearts of men
and pulling us all down into that muddy pen
Where the big hogs lap the slop and become emboldened.
But there he stands now, for every soul to view
In all his lying, whining, cowardly despicable stew
Not knowing that he's the dam that broke it all loose
Righteous waters pouring all over his cooking goose.
There he stands still, temporarily in our gossipy news
blustering big with lies that continue to spew
while judicial walls collapse around him
like Samson he stands there, astounded
that his brilliance always leads him to a pile of refuse.
But he's got a base of lingering loser rebels
and fellow henchmen nazi and no-brain pebbles
A landslide vote and the law will serve our needs
to bring cretins to the courts for their angry screeds
and bring a new world of Peace beyond our troubles.
Website designed by Gwendolyn Cleveland
Web-Master/Designer: Hensel Graphics
© Jim Cleveland 2017