Sometimes I feel like a mayor
Of a foreclosed state.
Everyone is bankrupt,
The protests are full of hate.
At those times
It’s up to me to nominate
Someone not just not loathsome
But someone actually great.
So you’ll use a walker
To shuffle into the barn,
And I’ll give you the bad news,
The IRS are taking the farm.
What hope will we have then?
Just half hopes of sisters and a brother.
You’d suggest we raise an army,
But I’d say we shouldn’t even bother.
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