The Dripping Hairline

It was a cold day when I said: “dead people voted”
Ate that Philly Cheesesteak but it made me feel bloated.

Came to: Stop the Steal
for the man who was the Art of the Deal

Pretty sweaty but made all my court dates,
Unearthed a chest of lies to change the country’s fate.

“Hey, folks don’t mean to gloat,
But Joe Frazier left his grave to vote.”

And you know those tired huddled masses,
they grabbed their glasses
but made the wrong turn,
as they came from Camden; we would soon learn,
to cast their ballots in the wrong place,
as if telling the man, get off of my face.”

Nyet, I call fraud!
No, I didn’t say Maude!

It’s the computers,
It’s the counters,
It’s the watchers,
It’s the absentee ballots,
It’s the ballots,
It’s the blue states,
It’s the Dems,

It’s rampant, and it’s widespread.

Like dark paint on a warm white canvas,
constantly dripping, falling off
revealing for a slight moment…

It’s true nature.