Trump

31 July 2016

While migrating saved blog posts in 2020, I came across this one; it is not currently on my old Blogger blog and I’m not sure if it ever was.


Trump sat alone in Central Park
Totally motionless except for his farts
He inhaled nothing but his own emanations
And believed he was winning by acclamation

He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s in my head
He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, we might be dead

Trump lingered last in line for brains and the
One he got was sort of rotten and insane
Fortunately for him he inherited millions
And had he been smart he’d have turned it into billions

He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s in my head
He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, we might be dead

Trump was on the hunt for some new scam
So he ran for president like millionaires can
Every business partner has come to hate him
So he’ll take the bully pulpit and use it to berate ’em

He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s in my head
He’s Trump, he’s Trump, he’s Trump, we might be dead
Is this Trump out of his head? I think so!

To the tune of “Lump” by The Presidents of the USA

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This work by Paul R. Potts is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The CSS framework is stylize.css, Copyright © 2014 by Jack Crawford.

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