Dear Friends,
Closing the noose ever tighter,
As our faces grow ever whiter,
Take this and eat,
Our lab grown meat,
If that’s not to your taste here have a spider.
The deep richness and velvety taste of the irony,
Told by demons decked out in their finest finery,
Russian elections ain’t fair,
Mail in’s safe we swear,
And jail without bail those seeking election integrity.
Farmers can relax no need to worry,
In Rotherham, London and Surry,
The elite have it in hand,
Peace throughout the land,
Because there’ll be a nuclear war by next January.
Illegal immigrant crime is taking its toll,
While government has redefined its role,
Because rape and violence have flair,
Go after the guy typing in his under ware,
And now it’s obvious that chaos is the goal.
When a judge is corrupt as vulture vomit,
They must keep the splash in the closet,
Reek does tingle,
Noses wrinkle,
And everyone is gagged especially the target.
Sincerely,
John Pepin
