The Feds have found a whole new way to keep us in the red.
They sent a million stimulus checks out to people dead.
More than a billion dollars worth. The IRS is ripped.
We’d like to send it back but grandpa winterized his crypt.
With his noted history of evil machinations,
perhaps Drumpf meant this all along as post-life reparations.
Feel sorry for the bible.
Him holding it seems a lot like libel.
Gas the peaceful protest horde
for p.r. shots on twitter board.
Unleash the army on D.C
as if he’s facing anarchy.
Aren’t people still dying of his plague?
As his smoke and bad jokes make things vague.
The countries who now laugh at our misfortune
have all been victims of his vast distortion.
It seems more certain civil war is in his plans.
He’s got the guns, the bad A.G. and insane fans.
He sees himself flying away like wild Rhett Nero,
his number forty-five slashed through, surrounded by a ZERO.
Drumpie’s moved to Florida,
there’s fewer taxes there.
He leaves his tower in New York
and much synthetic hair.
He’ll blend in with the old folks
in a state of milk and honey.
And he will find a thousand ways
to rid them of their money.
He’ll wear his mirrored glasses,
ogle women on the beach,
a state of tits and asses
where impeachment’s out of reach.
He’ll claim that Mar-a-Lago
is the greatest place on earth.
And no one there will dare to care
about what he is worth.
Away down south he’ll get far from
the liberals and haters.
And, best of all, his shotgun sons
can go hunt alligators.
It’s all untethered.
His hair is feathered.
His cheeks are golden,
his eyes beholden,
his fingers teeny,
just like his weenie.
He’s your very worst nightmare,
The Three Bad Wishes Genie.
In his teeth are diamond nuggets.
Up his nose are smoke and coal.
He pees processed oil in buckets
Demolition is The Goal.
He’ll dig deep down to hell unknown
to make the very core his own.
He thinks he is the judgement day.
How can we not stand in the way?
I love you more than stomach trouble,
Double Bubble or the Hubble.
More than guacamole dip, sit and sip, chocolate chip.
Even more than ham and eggs, cribbage pegs, chicken legs.
Let it be said I love you
more than pools of Mountain Dew.
More than brand new pairs of sneakers
or plush toys with inside squeakers.
More than baseball, more than dice, more than Grey Goose over ice.
Even more than rock on vinyl, I love you and that is final.
Valentines, like Groundhog Day, one more hitch to grab your pay.
Show your love by spending loot. Throw it down the honey shoot.
Everybody kiss and hug. Give her diamonds, you big lug.
Show your heart is in your wallet. Love extortion’s what I call it.
Cards and candy, hearts and flowers, nods to advertising’s powers.
////this could be reconfigured or a refrain extracted? Perhaps titled “Love Extortion” or “Ad Hock”//////////
Love’s extortion is the potion of the day
So here’s a song which could have subtitle new national anthem:
I’ll put a fucking wall
around you all.
I’ll toss your kids in cages
in the cold.
Paranoia has me in its thrall.
But I am made of concrete
and I will never fold.
Don’t talk about taxes.
What about the faxes?
Fake news! Dems are the colluders!
I have every right to cede
this country to intruders.
Pack up your investigation.
Won’t outlast my litigation.
Second term will be vacation.
Sell off many parcels of our nation.
What’s left will
have significant revamps.
And some amongst you
will be sent to camps.
Don’t mention obstruction.
The deep state’s big construction.
Witch hunt! The media committed treason.
I might just declare that this is
liberal hunting season.