I want my gas powered car, not some demonrat's dream.
I want our old world, not some new world scheme.
I want lower prices, not slowly starving to death.
I want to stop and smell flowers, not Brandon's bad breath.
It scorches everything, it withers the crops.
A foul wind blowing west constantly and it never stops.
It sticks in your craw, it flies up your nose.
It permeates everything, it stinks up your clothes.
Let's stop the world, it's time the d-rats get off.
I'm sick of their nauseous bullshit fouling our trough.
We need a new breeze, blowing out of D.C..
Not one trying to sell us moldy, new world cheese.
I won't sell my soul, for what these fools offer.
Enticing us with our money from our tax-coffers.
If they ever had scruples, they've lost them now.
The same goes for morals, everything is lowbrow.
Godless, weak, knuckle-draggers, following orders.
Giving the other side, no mercy, no-quarters.
Fools serving idiots, mush serves them for brains.
Their thinking is backwards, full of disdain.
A return to moral sanity is so sorely needed.
We must make sure the D-rats are roundly defeated.
D.L. Crockett -- 8/24/22