The thief has become
A brazen baboon
With the shambling gait
Of a left-leaning loon
His cabinet creaks
Abundantly stocked
With canned diatribes
To feed to the flocked
With harpies that screech
And patsies that fib
They spit in your eye
But claim to be glib
Inhabiting lands
Of crude make believe
If they all aren’t booked
The rest of us will grieve.
Are You Reading Me?
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