“Domestic terror!” screams the teleprompt
The empty suit gave voice to it. So grave!
The gaslighting continues as they stomp
Liberty’s gasping breath, while jackals rave
The jackals can’t repress their loud hee-haws
While posers sniff behinds through long grey trunks
As they embrace denial as their cause
With all the sanctity of Judas monks
But Truth will point toward the empty suit
While all sane men say “Suit, you have no clothes”
A gaslight masquerades as a refute
Derelict courts sit in silent repose
The old red dragon is about to rise
In one final gasp before his demise
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