Joe fought the prompter, and the prompter won.
Joe hasn't a clue what he's reading but he rambles on.
Joe fought the prompter and it tied his tongue.
He stands there gibbering like his bell's been rung.
The prompter treats Joe like a redheaded stepson.
Joe thinks to himself, wheres my damn shotgun.

Joe fought a wet paper bag and it kicked Joe's a*s.
It was clear to see Joe was a pansy without any mass.
The bag tangled Joe up, with a whimper Joe went down.
His tough guy rep. ruined, Joe wants to leave town.
Joe hears the snickers and the outright guffaws.
Joe wants the bag arrested cause it broke Joe's glass jaw.

Joe fought his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
It made Joe feel queasy and filled him with fear.
Joe punched and punched, lefts after rights.
Telling himself he had never lost any fights.
The mirrorman was persistent, blocking Joe's every punch.
Joe wished to himself he had brought his lunch.

Joe fights against his fate, but Joe's fate's gonna win.
You can't change your destiny with lies and spin.
Fate is kicking Joe's butt, Joe's about to go down.
Joe's going into denial like a corruptocrat clown.
Fate's landing some piledrivers, Joe hits the floor.
Joe's going to prison, hopefully to be seen no more.
D.L. Crockett -- 11/2/23