The president will challenge this new virus.
They say he’s got more balls than Miley Cyrus.
He’s hanging out with men who’ve been exposed.
“It can’t touch me,” he claims, and case is closed.
He doesn’t drink Corona, so he thinks he is immune.
He’ll grab that virus, tie it up, pow, zoom, up to the moon.
He’s like a super hero who has not a shred of power.
He wears an orange mask that washes right off in the shower.
But he will climb into the ring with dread COVID-19.
“I like a virus old enough to vote. Know what I mean?”
If he is knocked out in the tenth just like Rocky Balboa,
he’ll quarantine at Bloomberg’s scene, American Samoa.
And as the virus tours our country, proud to be the champ,
he’ll sit in sweats with Playboy pets. “Please wipe my face, I’m damp.”
