President Donald Trump
Was elected by many people
Who would call themselves
But why is it so hard for anyone
To be inspired by America's Politics today?
I wouldn't even say that these "Christians'"
Are INSPIRED by President Donald Trump now.
They just like becoming the Winners
As others become the Losers.
They're concept of Spirituality
Is more like Rape!
Hitherto I've been victimised,
My love has been plagiarised,
Claimed by men generalised.
I have loved her,
And lost her too.
Like I've in the past,
With other lovers.
I am a Nomadic Lover,
I know not what it is to be loved,
By young ladies I have only been cheated.
Tripping at the line, faltering at the goal
missing the last time, blocked, by the pole
Triumph but a un-missed fate, a faltering of faith
loss of proffered bate, an interfering wraith
The agony and ecstasy, we know from start to end
winning so god damn heavenly, and to the victors, lend
Spin me a song, my minstrel
Make it sweet, and smart
Remind me that the winning
is not, the greatest part
in view of it all,
line after line
"oh she's so amazing"
no she's not, what did you miss?
what are you so blinded by?
has life left you with such generic bliss?
pluto calls and dismisses renovation
they'd rather blow it to bits
we think you're a bunch of idiots
oh, her sound is so amazing
no, no it's not, it's the shrill
like death copied on glass plate
a copy of a copy of a copy
original doesn't want to crawl up her
ass and die, it's in fear for its reputation
don't tell me that you understand
if you're going to say that some win and some lose
because i know that
but i needed to be in the winning
i needed not just wanted
and that is what you don't understand
that is why
missed the point completely.
You keep shaking at the branches
just like money grows on trees.
I been dealing in these cheap clichés
just like they'll help me leave someday.
And--easy! Easy! Easy.--
We can't let 'em hear us scheming
at the bottom of their hill
while their victories are streaming.
I can still remember days
when sane folks always laid bets on us.
With our mortarboards tilted all smart
and God left sorting filters,
we tilted, tipped all windmills
and we smoked through all opponents.
You'll tell me I once loved you.
I'll reply that, once, I could.
And we'll keep on telling stories
'til our voices clear the woods
and drift on up their hill
and through their windows
to their ears.
I'll tell you you were beautiful.
You were! I fucking swear!
So tell me I was beautiful
and that we can repair
this broken clumsy story
that fucked us all up and brought us here.
Up there atop their hill,
those thieving bastards sip their wine,
while below them, our white facepaint runs.
We plan ahead for better times.
I keep shaking at the branches
as if friendship grows on trees.
Just as though they might accept me,
when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves.
And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes
and flimsy dreams.
But I still think you're beautiful.
So tell me that I'm beautiful.
And then let's clip their flimsy wings.
Those motherfuckers 'crost the town
are eating shit and grinning.
while counting out their winnings.
But their music plays too loud
and soon their eardrums will be bleeding.
If they can't hear us breathing, babe,
they'll never hear us scheming.