Making An Asset Of Myself

The FBI is on my tail as if I were a criminal.
Disdain from all those scoundrels seems overt and not subliminal.
I never worked for Russia; a disgrace you even asked.
It’s all a big fat hoax – pay no attention to the facts.

There’s no trace of corruption for the FBI to root out:
I’m not a crook like Dillinger; there won’t be any shoot out.
I’m not a Russian spy, or rogue – I’m leader of our nation.
(Although I might get nailed, like Al Capone, for tax evasion.)

Once again, it’s Fake News; with the media I wrestle:
Comparing me to Rosenbergs (that’s Julius and Ethel).
So what if, when I meet with Putin, I hang onto notes?
It’s not like we colluded to influence any votes.

I said the leaders of the FBI were dirty coppers,
Ignoring all the lies my people told them (some were whoppers).
The Bureau used to track down mooks like George “Machine Gun” Kelly,
But now they’re after me, since I admire Machiavelli.

Any time a charge is leveled, I claim it’s a hoax:
But where there’s smoke, there’s fire – that’s the old adage this evokes.
Each week brings new allegations; crazy roller coaster.
My face might soon get plastered on a Ten Most Wanted poster.