Nitwits in that town, completely worthless and sh*tty.
We lost time because of the Mob
too busy committing crime.

Hellish thugs craving dough
with the illness aswirl
while the idiot sits on the throne,
and all the heroes he’s dissin’.

He ain’t right…vaudevillian that ain’t too bright.
He is a blight in a reign that’s pure bullsh*t;
he’s at best a nonsentient clown.
He is a cancer and a fright.
For his aides, needs stooges who will do
what the clown that’s a zero will tell ’em.

Heroes fight illness;
they are the brave ones

Heroes are willin’
to go get things done.

Ass appalls, head of air.
Meanwhile real heroes rally,
band together and share
tools of life. Thank the heroes for livin’.

The illness on preys,
and dolts like the coward hide,
then only show to smoke-blow.
On front lines, health workers don’t avert eyes.

Put down by this clown so wrong;
they’re strong and have pity.
They fib not, don’t bluff—
they do have it rough:
not ’nuff save-’em stuff, yet fight
do the heroes the illness.