Our president’s possessed but we have no exorcist.

Now all the white house beds and lies will have to keep on spinning.

Trump’s got the hair of Linda Blair, but he’s much better sinning.

The bile that spews out of his mouth is not so green and gooey.

But it still stinks like backed-up sinks, vile water filled with hooey.

Who will now play chess with death since Max has lost his game?

Perhaps Sir Jared, whitest knight, will do it for his dame.

And so, The Seventh Seal begins anew in our plagued time.

An exorcist does not exist  inside this house of crime.