Donald’s Gold

(A song which preceded the presidency of Trump)

From his ivory tower

Clad in gold

There is nothing pure

He hasn't  sold

From Empire states

To bottled hate

Cos all that glitters

Clips and folds

And fools rush in 

for Donald’s gold

The chief of hoarders

Barks his orders

And cocks his leg

To mark his borders

Straw hats and twigs

And sheep like wigs

Will wisp about

When wolves marauder 

And fools rush in 

To serve the warder

They mock -ad hoc- of tiny hands

That point to signs of tiny glands

But men with needs

Turn tides and sands

Their referendums 

Scorch the lands..

Replacing seeds

Of life for brands

And fools rush in

With cold press pans

From his ivory tower

Of kitsch gone cold

There ain’t nothing sure

He hasn't sold

From lynching ropes 

To Latin hopes

Cos all that glitters

Clips and folds

And fools rush in 

For Donald’s gold

As the grievous rally

Up his alley

To a nice warm bed

In his pro*state chalet

Since fear and hate

Wins mass*debates

They’ll settle scores

With a heartless tally

When trucks roll in to clear the valley

He'll savour views across to Cali

“la piel de naranja es gruesa”

 ¿comprendes?

They mock -ad hoc- of tiny hands

That point to signs of tiny glands

But men with needs

Turn tides and sands

Their referendums 

Scorch the lands..

Replacing seeds

Of life for brands

And fools rush in

With cold press pans

From his Babel tower

Of clay with mould

There’s horse manure

To be sold

For angry mobs

The vote he robs

Cos all that glitters

Clips and folds

Pyrite ignites 

The fear he sold

And fools rush in 

For Donald’s gold

Previous
Previous

Dumbo

Next
Next

Just Desserts