Small Right Hand (With apologies to Nick Cave)

Take a little stroll to the 19^th Hole
Go and ask the flacks
Where the spokesmen spin
Like a bowling pin
As they shift, backtrack.
Where Russian bots buzz like a turd with flies,
And Fox repeats the lies

CNN, you know
You’ll never get the facts
At the bar, at the carts,
At the rough, at the traps.
From the shit storm comes
A tall orange man
And grabbing all the pussies with
A small right hand.

Putin pulls him with his arm,
And tells him he’s a good boy.
He'll rekindle all your dreams
It takes him a second to destroy.
He'll promise you a wall
Where beaners foot the bill
But the border’s still porous in the southern land.

He's a pig, he's a lech,
He's a cad, he's a douchebag.
He hears whispered lies
In his disappearing mind
And he flips the middle finger
Of his small right hand.

You have lots of money?
Cab-i-net.
Just don’t you ask him

For a private jet.
You feel your judgment’s bad,
You feel like you’ve been had
Well don’t you worry, here

Robert Mueller comes
Deposing traitors and the spies
And seeing through the lies.
A slimy spatter’s cast wherever he lands,
Secret ten forties in his
Small right hand.


He cares for but ratings
In his two minutes hatings
He'll appear everywhere and
He is what he seems.
You'll hear him in your head,
As the tv screams
And hey buddy, he’s warning
You don’t turn him off
He's a pig, he's a lech,
He's a cad, he's a douchebag.

If you’re a Hispanic
In this catastrophic land
You’ll get a bitch-slapping with
His small right hand.