Yesterday I had a real bad ouchie
And dreamt that I should call Dr. Faucci.
When I awoke, I couldn’t find his number
Then I fell into a troubled slumber
Where he morphed into a Zeus-Ian Pitt
Brandishing his bright scepter of knowledge
Mixing compassion with a brilliant wit
I wish they had taught Trump at college.
But they didn’t or he refused to learn.
Since Daddy footed for all of his bills
He did not ever have to anything earn
Surrounding himself with a bunch of shills.
I woke up chilled but in a pool of sweat.
Haven’t we shelved this shell of a man yet?