Come friendly bullets and fall on Trump
He isn’t a fit human now,
There isn’t brain enough to blow,
Rain over, bring doom!
Come bullets, shoot to smithereens
That bouffant hair, small hands, orange skins,
Tiny minded, coke tins, cheeseburgers, old suits,
Full of gas, and bad breath.
Mess up the bad taste hotels,
gold faucets, rip-off tariffs,
Messed up every town.
Whites only nobody brown
And get that man with double chin
Who’ll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women’s tears, abortion bans
And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell, it’s the woke.
But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It’s not their fault that they are mad,
They’ve tasted Hell.
It’s not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from Mar A Logo,
It’s not their fault they often go
To play golf on shitty greens
And talk of illegals, while doing worse
defrauding the public, raping, avoiding taxes
Grifting tacky trainers and Chinese made hats
don’t look up to see the truth,
sleep in court…
