If you want to be nice, you could vote for me twice
while I work out my kill-the-mail scheme.
I’m the nightmare the hippies saw coming,
the anti-Amerikan dream.
I’ll blow up all racial pretensions
and continue to subvert the law.
With my planeload of dark thugs inventions,
I can drop the fake newsmaker’s jaw.
I’ll constantly name drop ANTIFA,
make suburbs sense fear in the night.
I’ll kick things around more than FIFA.
Two lies make a wrong thing seem right.
I’ll spur on my good boys with long guns
to keep any protest in hand,
tell my police whenever a perp runs,
he’s got to know that’s his last stand.
I’m turning all purloined mail cases
into immigrant child B & B’s.
First we must spray mace in their faces,
to make sure that they don’t have fleas.
All disappeared looters in Dem towns
will not be found on voter rolls.
We’ve long ago disposed of those clowns.
They’ve  been sold as fishermen’s trolls.
I can’t wait to get back at congress.
In my second term they will die.
I will torture the ones who were wrongest,
and record, like George Floyd, when they cry.
For those who think I’ll be outvoted,
I guess you don’t know me too well.
You will be from life rolls demoted
and sentenced to non-random hell.
(CHORUS)
My next inauguration will be the best, of course.
Any citizen not there risks Homeland Defense Force.
They’ll be bred as worker bees and caged next to the Wall.
I can’t believe you peasants didn’t sense this in the fall.