The New Tombstone Blues

The sweet pretty Putin is in bed with
The GOP, of course, they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of the New Jim Crow Show
But the Negro has no need to be nervous.

The ghost of Stormy Daniels she hands down her wits
To Omarosa the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Mike the Ripper Pence who sits
On the edge of the Senate fence.

Melania's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no Jimmy Choos
Donald's in the alley
He's lookin' for clues
I'm in the kitchen
With the make America great again blues.

The hysterical Kavanaugh in the House arcade
Screaming he moans, "I've just been made."
Then sends out for Lindsey Graham who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the Democrats in."

Now the G-man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to Brett
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your beer.
You will not die, it's not poison."

Melania's in the designer fact'ry
She makin' fake news
Donald's in the alley
He's lookin' for refuse
I'm in the kitchen
With the deep state blues.

Well, John Kelly the Chief-of-Stuff, after torturing a leaker
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Thief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please be coherent
Is there a hole for me to get sick leave in?"
The Molester-in-Chief answers him while unzipping Putin's fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and question why."
And signing an Executive Order he points to his head
Saying, "My hair's not yellow it's chicken."

Ivanka's in Vanity Fair
She sellin' frocks in there
Her daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for pussy - cats
I'm in the kitchen
With the fake news blues.

The king of the USA his soldiers to save
Writes "Fools" on their tombstones and farts on their graves
Puts the pied pipers of the press in prison and fattens his slaves
Then sends them out to the "shithole" cities of Africa.

Gypsy Donald with a blowtorch he burns out resistance camps
With his faithful slave Pence behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stooges
To win friends and influence the IRS.

Donald Jr.'s indicted
he ain't got no bail
His daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for tail
I'm in profound trouble
With the twerp Twittering blues.

The geometry of incensed bony flesh
Causes the Book of Eros to get thrown
At Summer Zervos who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.

I wish I could give Brother Kim Jong Un his great thrill
I would set him on a missile launcher at the top of the hill
Then send out for some ICBMs and General C. B. DeMille
We could die happily ever after.

Mama's in the fields
Where she conveniently kneels
Daddy's on Air Force One
where he's groping for fun
I'm in the kitchen
With the Charlottesville Alt-Right blues.

Where Ma Raney, Beethoven and Tricky Dick once unwrapped their bed roll
Muller now rehearses around the courthouse flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soulless
To the Leavenworth wing of the Electoral College.

I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you, dear President, from driving us insane
That could ease us and cool us and cease our pain
And free us from your oppressive and destructive malice

We're in the fact'ry
Just about to lose it all
Trump's in the alley
The fool's havin' a ball
I'm in the kitchen waitin' for the fall
Singing the tumbling down, broke, busted, and disgusted new tombstone blues.

It's the far right!