America, if you are scared and think I’m giving false hope,
And are looking for assurance from the nation’s top commander,
Let me offer this: Are any of the deaths from this my fault? Nope.
Here’s a terrible reporter: his name’s Peter Alexander.
Now, this one drug – it’s called chloroquine – I’m clearly a big fan of.
I believe it shows great promise as a leading antiviral.
And although I’m not a scientist (and letters, I’m no man of),
I’m convinced, despite no proof, that it’s the key to our survival.
At a moment when the words I cite should all be inspirational
I choose to launch attacks while in a room filled up with correspondents,
Blaming them for Fake News and pursuing what’s sensational.
While they report the words I say, the things I hear make me despondent.
I’m on TV every day now, sharing updates and opinion,
Making clear that I, and I alone, can make a cure come faster.
While I’m not a doctor, it’s quite clear I think I could have been one:
All the remedies I’ve offered are prescriptions for disaster.
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