Putting Your Pence On

Mike Pence
I’m not willing to admit how far my head up in Trump’s ass is,
but the last time I was there, I think I lost my reading glasses.
I’ve aligned myself so closely, Mother’s now a tad uneasy;
we’re connected at the hip — as if we were twins Siamese-y.

Donald really didn’t know me when he picked me to run with him.
We did not see eye to eye or see the world through the same prism.
But I’ve come to realize he can be easily persuaded
by appealing to his ego, which is massively inflated.

I delivered a big speech, out on the grounds of Fort McHenry,
where I made the case that Trump’s a law-and-order sort — so when he
does things in his own way, on his own terms, he’s been quite successful.
But if you’re a Democrat, you’ve found life under him quite stressful.

I brought Trump in alignment with the movement evangelic
who, despite his sordid past, consider him ha’olam melech.
He thinks he’s the Chosen One, and really — who am I to bicker?
He thought Nikky Haley might sub in for me, but didn’t pick her.

I am bound to Trump so tightly we can never be unfastened.
When he utters total bullshit my support has been impassioned.
I have sold my soul to Donald — or at least I’ve let him rent it —
his insanity and chaos? I’ve done nothing to prevent it.

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