The Man-child Who Dug His Own Legacy
They say it takes a Man-child to raze a global village
Okay, okay, I guess you can say, I clearly made that up
But look around, and you will see, his predatory pillage
No one asked for tantrum tyrant, yet, he is our runner up
Worry, worry, fire and fury, defying logic, pushing extremes
A man-child playing clown, sends out his dripping shields
While he hides with a whacking stick upon his private greens
As day by day he fades away in waning light of oilfields
The Man child, live-streaming, screaming, kicking, won’t get very far
He has dug up loud doubt. Each day, he loses, even Foxy friends
There’s not enough nasty in the world to support his repertoire
Among the death and wreckage, a strange, new calm descends
The Man-child is furious. Curious? How could they turn away?
He smacks his stick deeper in the ground, digging himself in
“When you’re a star they let you do it. Donate please! Give me your pay!!”
Yet the hole seems in control, and starts to swallow him
