Evil’s start

I stir my potions as I slay

I stir my potions as I slay

Trump will be gone by Christmas day

Nothing delivered nothing done

And nothing left but rancid clay

Rancid clay on Christmas day

Rancid clay and gilded slop

The offal of what once was top

Now top is bottom Pence as well

Make room make room

For potion’s swell

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