Did pagan blood drip
From his screaming veins?

Stand here.

Tell me that line again
Where we all win…

Is this your Underground Railroad?
My Sweet Chariot to carry me home
Down the Yellow-brick road
Paved by the Slave himself.

Is this absurd to think?
I now wear his soiled robes
With pride I hide my face
In your open-air market of disgrace.

It's my refuse you refuse,
The rest of me can stay to pay
To listen to euphonious eulogies
For your dead itinerant demagogue.

Is that about right?
I disgust you.