"Guilty on 34 counts
Thank you New Yawk!"
A lady in glasses said.
Not 33 and a third?
My lawyers fee
For the right to carry
An alternative reality.
It's the cover charge, see
At the Freemason door
Where the band always plays 440.
Ah how the universe works
On perfect spring days;
I had just been patting
My self in the back
How I was able to ignore COVID,
The common cold and its variant,
The whole time. And now this.
But the streets are now wise
And another pipes up: "Election?
We don't follow no fucking election.
That's olden days fairy tale disinfo,
Like vampires in robes
And babies swallowed by dingos.
We no longer get fooled
By such things."
