Night Before Trump
How is the ground underneath you
Shifting feel now?
How is the sky falling
On your plans?
Where is the man you made
The one to save your callous hands
Where is this place he says
You'll be great again, it never was
I'll bet you dollars to donuts
You're face up in a dumpster
With an orange leprechaun
Singing old Scottish hymns
While you search for your dinner
He will be building your casket
And he'll promise its paid for
By the brown guys replacement
He who walks with greatness walks alone
He who searches for greatness stands alone
He who is promised greatness
I'm writing a personal letter to steve about hockey. We are both needing to play more hockey. I have NO idea how you manage to get a little hockey in given everything else -- but I guess it's either hockey or panic attacks.
Please write out lyrics if you can. I love when you do that. Oh, you were doing that as I was writing this!!
This is great.