TIME TO POTTY aka democrat party
Joe bumbles onward, his head up his ass
An energized dummy, high on his own gas.
Occasionally pulling his head out, gasping for air.
It would raise a big stink, if he died up in there.
I’m sure they’ve got fotos, it’s Joe’s favorite pose.
He’s such a big stinker, everyone knows.
He can’t bump his head, so he should be okay.
He gets really angry, when folks get in his way.
He can be heard sputtering, spitting out turds,
He’s raising a ruckus, farts mixed with words.
When Joey’s needed, he gets a kick to the balls.
Out pops his head, ready to go, balls to the walls.
Joe’s ready to celebrate, to paint rosy pictures.
How his “Inflation Deflation Act” is the perfect elixir.
His lies tumble out as the stock market is crashing.
He doesn’t realize it’s our lives he is trashing.
He’s wearing his aviators, to hide his shitty brown eyes.
His glad-handing BS, compounded with lies.
No one is happy, Nancy, begs them to applaud.
The whole stupid shindig, a celebration of fraud.
Then they drag out James Taylor to sing them a tune.
He stole the whole show from Brandon the goon.
The whole thing fell flat, like a car that’s run out of gas.
Proving the demonrat’s heads are up their collective ass.
D.L. Crockett — 9/15/22