Al Gore has crawled out from under his rock.
He's ranting and raving he's in climate shock.
The world is overheating, run for the hills.
Come on now Al, shut up, sit down and chill.
You've made your millions peddling snake oil.
Show us a place you've seen oceans boil.
Prove that the ozone is full of hot air.
It couldn't  happen if you haven't been there.
So what if the ground sucks up all the rain.
That's what happens when rain falls on the plain.
The tempertures falling, hasn't rose in 10 years.
Yet here you are mongering climate change fears.
Your climate change is what we call weather.
Why don't you quit obsessing and get it together.
Run for president again, we need a good laugh.
Your chances of winning are way off the graph.
You ain't been missed, you should have stayed gone.
Everyone's sick of how your dumba*s carries on.
Your own body heat must have boiled your brain.
It's a safe bet though, that you're feeling no pain.
How much did the WEF pay you to pander for them.
To spout your nonsense and hack up your phlegm.
Climb off your soapbox, before it collapses.
Before your obvious faux rage disrupts your synapses.
Shut up and return to your palace on the beach.
I've no time for your tirades, you pandering leech.
D.L. Crockett -- 1/22/23