They target your grief and your pain
and know when to yank on your chain.
Big data pulls wires.
The right wing conspires
in your local church and campaign.
For more information, check out the Amazon documentary:
People You May Know.
They target your grief and your pain
and know when to yank on your chain.
Big data pulls wires.
The right wing conspires
in your local church and campaign.
For more information, check out the Amazon documentary:
People You May Know.
Tens of millions have PTSD
from the Trump presidency.
Better days beckoning
come with a reckoning
for the death, crimes and indecency.
Pandemics only end in one way.
It’s what the doctors and scientists say.
The cure-all like no other:
STOP INFECTING EACH OTHER.
Wear a mask. Keep your distance. Okay?
Yes Biden won, but our country’s a wreck.
The claws of fascism are in our neck.
We’ve made a narrow escape.
With no heroes in capes,
it’s going to take all hands on deck.
Pompeo, you’ll be like Pompeii.
Both buried in ashes one day.
Consumed in the end
by the MAGmA you tend,
fueling Trump’s volcanic spray.
The perfidious plight of Bill Barr
expands POTUS powers too far.
It’s good for dictators
and chaos creators
but not for the Stripes and the Stars.
Trump’s firing of the head of Defense,
Will make the White House insiders all tense.
He should fire one daily
Starting with Kayleigh.
Betsy, Jared, Ivanka, and Pence.
Trump is a bad breaker upper.
His endless tweets interrupt supper.
There’s naught left to discuss.
Stop making a fuss.
It's over, you fascist old crupper.
Lies, collusion, sedition, and treason
Are some of the multiple reasons
We voted him out,
With nary a doubt.
And his lies continue at the Four Seasons.
We’ve got to deprogram his cult.
They are not free thinking adults.
They’re brainwashed and confused
and must be disabused
of his lies they extol and exult.
A sad little boy born in Queens
Took the White House in Twenty-Sixteen
Of his antics, we’re tired.
Little Donald, you’re fired!
Autocracy’s just not our scene!
Our Party’s music is for every race.
We each have our sound but we all keep pace.
Whatever the weather
our gig is together.
And our band is more than just the base.
It’s down to the end and we count.
The unbearable tension, it mounts.
The world seems in tatters
so every vote matters.
Every vote matters. We count.
When he’s his most vile and uncouth
remember this one simple truth.
The levers of power
don’t rest in the tower.
They rest in your own voting booth.