No scruples, no conscience, what lie won't he tell.
What version of his untruth, is Joe trying to sell.
No consideration of others, no foresight or hindsight.
Nothing sounds honest, nothing sounds right.
 Full of nonsensical gibberish, his messages muddled.
While he stands there like a moron, looking befuddled.
He angers too easily, he always flies off the handle.
one minute he's clueless then he's off like a roman candle.

The meaning is lost when truth falls on deaf ears.
When a person really is as dumb as he or she appears.
He definitely has an agenda, he doesn't know what it is.
The thoughts in his head, theres no way they're his.
 Fifteen minutes of fame, have dragged on into decades.
His fleeting fame became infamy, his job's a charade.
Yet he's still stood before us, making a fool of himself.
The fool should be retired on his ill-gotten wealth.

We're expected to listen, somehow to make sense.
Of a message that's devoid of all commonsense.
It's. hard to do when you're laughing, rolling on the floor.
It's hard to respect a buffoon, such a consumate bore.
 I Listen, seriously  hoping he chokes on his words.
That he gags on the accusations he has so often inferred.
He's too old to think straight, his brain is compromised.
That he's a few cards short of a deck, no on is surprised.

Yet theres still plenty of fools who will vote for this twit.
Either paid for their votes or just don't give a sh*t.
He could still be reelected, He's the man with the tools.
And the demonrats stand ready to change all the rules.
They can stuff ballot boxes, they've got kangaroo courts.
They can make up new charges and swamp you with torts.
Then fall back on hypocrisy, and their unending denial.
Winning their elections legally is no longer the demonrat style
D.L. Crockett -- 2/27/24