He won't eat indeginous
Says it's way to bland.
Won't try meals from the melting ***
That is this land.
Said he tried it once
And it made him ill.
This is why he won't venture outside
Of a happy meal.
But his tall tale is still amiss.
Says he vsited an eatery
Where they feed him this;
A whole chicken in the ***
The feathers give the soup flavor,
And fleas.
Oh please, oh please!
Let's eat the supper then enjoy the disease
That comes when you succumb
To a poor sous chefs orders.
Maybe he is right?
Maybe we should secure our borders?
Nah, the man's just rich and crazy.
White hood hanging in the oval office
Like, "Bannon made me."
Back to his reteric about the borders.
One tall order from a short sighted man
Who thinks building walls
Can protect "the promised land" .
Land, of course, that was never even ours.
He'd be better off living somewhere like Mars.
Red-orange skin, meet red-orange soil.
Mixing martian sand with his Mcnugget body oils.
So maybe, maybe we'll all get lucky one day
When Musk builds a rocket ship
That'll carry him away.