He’s still got his mitts on the nuclear codes until noon.
He’s up in the air like the devil may care, the buffoon.
If he sends the command to a nuclear sub,
D.C. just disappears in the bay, glub, glub, glub.
In this next two hours, he could have his say,
and possibly blow all the blue states away.
He said he’ll be back, perhaps in a new form.
His last campaign could well be called “U.S. Storm.”
There won’t be a sigh of relief until he
is disarmed and deposited in history.
As long as he still has his hands on the button,
we’re all meat to him, fried chicken and mutton.