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Hey diddle diddle on cat’s gut did fiddle Nero while Rome was in flames.
Hidey-ho, neighbor in no way should we waver our course that is quite deranged.
Tailless blind mice who’ve told their tales thrice are snuffling about ‘mongst the dead.
But we’ve nothing to fear ’cause it can’t happen here as our spooks see all with infra-red.
Shall we ‘gain make ‘Merica great or embrace donkey’s brand of hate that is the question du jour.
Either bed tis true ain’t good for the red, white nor blue as they’re filed with ugly cackling whores.
My country tis of thee, what’s become of liberty if these two are cream of our crop?
With nowhere to run yet so much to hide fear we’re headed for final mic drop.