Snakes On A Plane. His final flight is ready to take off, The ex-President is set to snake off, His eyes look out, dark, cold, reptilian, Farewell, you contemptible low con man. Fly away to your welcome in Mar-A-Lago, Fly, fly off, off to to your hidey-hole you go, Go to ground, wait for the storm to pass... Natural, for an old snake in the grass. A man is known by the company he's among, So visitors, cock an ear for a f-f-forked tongue, Hisss twisted words hark back to original sin, And he sheds friends as he does his thin skin. So Don, slip out and lay back 'neath the Florida sun, Relax, uncoil, your long retirement has just begun, Or scale back the sun bed regime, let down your hair Then slither under a rock and stay- at home- there.
‘Warning- Contains Lingering Traces Of Venemous Vitriol.’