Nobody thought the man could win,
that King of Broken Things,
but he showed his vulgar mind
and gave our demons darker wings.
America knew this man was evil
just not to which degree,
but we discovered it oh so quickly
as he destroyed our legacies.
The work of greater men,
he claimed them as his own
and sowed the seeds of hate
with a racial undertone
He blighted all he touched
from the Senate to the Courts,
destroying our regal sense of justice
while laughing at our retorts.
He raised up his cosplay army
and incited them with lies,
so they'd strut around our capitols
with weapons on their thighs.
The King mocked our Asian brothers,
laying blame upon their heads
for a virus he ignored
and the thousands he left dead.
The King of Broken Things
and his family of gilded fools,
brayed like asses to the masses
and broke our every rule.
They ravaged Jacqueline's roses
and partied on our lawn
and populated his cabinet
with greedy low-wit pawns.
He recruited professional liars,
a pantheon of shrews,
who undermined what little faith
America had in modern news.
The King ignored respected doctors,
abandoned our nurses at the front,
kicked sand in the face of science,
like a good and proper cunt.
But, the King was overwhelmed.
He was living on borrowed time.
His Wall couldn't keep us out
nor hide his many crimes.
He learned the sin of tyrants
while sitting in his swamp
that if you make the muck to deep,
it's you the swamp will chomp.
He's in his death roll now,
down where it's the darkest
where the sun glows a halo,
and his prayer for hope is starkest.
The King has lost his throne.
His croaked lies lose their strength.
His tomorrows are at an end.
His rule has run its length.
Like his trademarked pallor though,
a suit of orange his morrow brings.
Let America forget him not,
the King of Broken Things.