Timothy Birdnow

Sung to the tune of Crosby, Stills, and Nash's Chicago:


Donald Trump is bound and gagged
as lies pour from witness chairs
Won't you please come to his trial
just to sing (you stool pigeons).
In a land that's known for freedom
there is none for orange hair
Won't you please come to the trial
we will burn some witches there

We can flay the creep
bury him so deep
we're just dying to convict him

Politicians sit and smile they all want him to be gone
Won't you please come to his trial it's just wrong
Don't ask Jack to fight fair 'cause he'll turn the other ear
won't you please come to his trial so the Democrats can cheer

We can flay the creep
bury him so deep
we're just dying to convict him

(It's dying)
If you believe in justice
(It's dying)
If you believe in freedom
(It's dying)
Let a man live his own life
(It's dying)
Rights and law, who needs them

slam the jail house door

Donald Trump must not be free I hope the day comes soon
Won't you soon come to the trial just to see how much wwe wound
we'll go after him all morning, in the day and afternoon
won't you please come to his trial
we'll hit him like a monsoon

We can flay the creep
bury him so deep
we're just dying to convict him

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 11:21 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 244 words, total size 2 kb.