The Hermit Kingdom

I’m well aware I’m a little dumb,

When it comes to fact I am under your thumb

But how can I possibly believe

These things he does when in a peeve?

Shooting men with some anti-tank gun

For nothing; presumably, for fun

Because he can. Oh, I know his hair

Is silly, but that cannot be fair,

When we’ve Hillary and Donald Trump.

Showing their dead wigs on the stump

Before adoring crowds, which they all share.

How do we know he doesn’t care

For his people? They talk a different game

And subsume their souls unto his fame,

They venerate his pudgy frame

And everybody acts the same.

So how do we know a monster lurks

In that plump skull? Who are the jerks

That know the singer and the song,

When the whole nation shapes the wrong?