Gross Lard Don (aka Melancholia Does Country and Festrin’)
Ten over par Don?
D’you never honestly write score-cards Don?
Along with the spun crimes,
There’s gotta be a ball and chain sometimes
And you take and never give so,
Let me live separately away as far as I can go
I’ve said your scarred Don,
But made no promise to your gross hard-on
You may promise, “cool bling and big dimes on things”
But it won’t climb, frozen growth – you will discover
You’re a debtor, Wall Street’s over!
Hell if tweet-talkin’ poo could make it come true
I’d trust you with the world’s plight now on your skills for chatter
But then would it be shatter
No smiles for a while – he’s off his trolley,
Gov. shouldn’t be a felons folly
Come on and be scared in screwed times while we can
You’ve gone too far Don,
With insults and your bellicose jargon
Along with the spun crimes,
There’s gotta be a ball and chain sometimes
I heard your pardons,
Of the corrupt are how you rose far Don
I can tell you’re a buffoon, you’re just a big balloon
And if it’s what it takes to scold you
I’d rather be with sleepy Joe
But you scum king – I think you should know
You sweater cook, before you reap
A plotter in balls deep
Yes, stuck in you there is someone, who you can’t pull out
You know who I’m talkin’ about
So dial Putin, “Heil” – he’s off his trolley,
Gov. shouldn’t be a felons folly
Come on and be scared in screwed times while we can
So file for a trial Don is so small he
Has no love from Melancholia
Little Don is scared of nude times while he’s canned
You’ve never starred Don,
And I cannot stand your gross hard-on
Along with the spun crimes,
There’s gotta be a ball and chain sometimes
I’ve heard you’re scarred Don
You’re severed from it too, your gross hard-on