The man behind the curtain
Speaking loud and certain
His image twisted and blurred
Larger than life
His armies and might
Imperialism is what he prefers

The little people do his bidden
On the senate floor of Oz
With pockets full
Of yellow brick gold
Their children live like gods

While those outside the castle
Have fallen fast to sleep
Trekking through the ***** field
Light upon their feet

The witches rise
On the centrist floor
The Wizard of Trump
Will have four more

Where are the ruby slippers
For it's time to go home
There's no place like...