He grinned and he bared it, the fool shot the moon.
They call it old white man charades I call it loony-tunes.
Old geezers and pedophiles and drug addict scum.
An old deenergized dummie always beating his gums.
Buffoons come and go, some come bringing coke.
Is it for Joe or for Hunter, is the oft heard old joke.
Jill Biden looks on, looks like she's sick of this scene.
 Stuck in a nightmare with Joe, wasn't a part of her dream.
Here he comes with Hunter, with blow on their chins.
Both of them wearing the same sh*teating Biden grin.
Hunter talking a mile a minute, Joe looking confused.
Everyone knew Joe was high, if offered he never refused.
They party into the wee hours, Joe passed out on the floor.
Hunter in the oval office with a bag of coke and a whore.
Cameras were never allowed, the cocaine was no problem.
They thought they were gods, the dope was their pablum.
Hunter loves his glass dick, he sucks on it daily.
Are they both lizard people, skins dry and scaley.
The space aliens have arrived from planet Bizarro.
Some in plain view on the view like Anna Navarro.
I've heard people say "the proofs in the pudding"
I'm scratching my head, was it from Cuba Gooding.
I think Diane Feinstein and Joe arrived here together.
Their cover a big lie about a change in the weather.
I'm doing what the left does, making it up as I go.
There's one big difference, I'm not smoking the snow.
I believe what I believe, I tell the truth when I want.
I know theres folks who refer to me as an idiot savant.
For me it's all sh*ts and giggles, just me making fun.
Perhaps a small grain of truth in some stories I've spun.
I'm sure demonrats hate me, on the right I have an allure.
In these times, what better way to persevere and endure.
D.L. Crockett -- 7/31/23