My name is JD Vance and it’s a sorry tale I tell for I fell for the golden calf and now I’m going to hell I was born Rust Belt riffraff, no silver spoon in my mouth, but the lure of loot took me and my values all went south > I was “a never Trump guy” until the Trump guys won Declared “I never liked him” then had to change my tune Said he might be “America’s Hitler” until he made me come to attention any time he talked or walked into a room I called him a “fraud,” called him “unfit,” a quack pill to relieve our pain his promised fix all cut counterfeit and “the needle in America’s collective vein” “My god what an idiot!” I did once tweet but when he took my hand and offered me a seat at that table piled high with horse and red meat I cuckolded my country and kissed the traitor’s feet > ‘Cause I got a soul like a slinky, I’m supremely supine and like Lisa Loopner’s dad, I was born without a spine I wanted what I’d never had, lord, wanted it so bad it left me kneeling unclad at the MAGA shrine He’s an “Opioid for the masses,” I did proclaim back in the elegiac days when I still had a brain Now I’m strung out on hot flashes in the ashes of my campaign and it’s white light white heat, mama, driving that train > He is “cultural heroin” is what I did maintain before going down to the crossroads to sell my soul to the devil and throw in with a gang of filthy rich predator assholes A whole slew of views I did then have to delete for that heroin’s now my life, and it’s my wife... so to speak I put aside all morals to sate my lust for laurels said I do when he wooed me to be his lawfully vetted veep Yeah, Donald threw me a bone and I saw a door to glory and sold my soul for a home in the Naval Observatory Punched with no hesitancy my ticket to the vice-presidency Topped off my apostasy with a lament that will live in infamy, an off-key minstrelsy, oh, this silk-stocking elegy has soiled evermore my legacy with GOP depravity... > For I’m as supple as a slinky, I’m as tough as a Twinkie and like Lisa Loopner’s pop, don’t got me no backbone With my moral compass shot and my cover now blown I’ll shape-shift to the top and kowtow till the cows come home They say he’s all conniving, no more loyal than a rat They say they saw him knifing Mike Pence in the back But the die has cast me as his flunky, lo, the groveling junky swilling the orange Kool-Aid and shooting up orange smack...
Be the first to comment