Do they forget how to smile?,
Or did they all simply go to the same photographer,
Klenched jawed Kodiak Kunts LTD,
KKK,
It’s election year and I’m on edge,
The gig is up, the music has stopped,
But the dance goes on,
Have they got bored of their own lies,
Well, they’re bored enough to drop the disguise,
So here they stand,
Disgusting and vile,
Vague and grotesque,
Barely human at best,
They talk of roads and work,
Opportunities and prospects,
We’ll get it done, believe us,
But, shut up once this election is won,
They say, they’re building the bypass,
But I’m building my own,
One way ticket out of this,
This dank depressing untreated pothole,
For this is The Pothole Nation,
No longer where motley is worn,
But Chinese suits, and German ties,
I’ve tried so hard to do like the turtle,
Bury my head in the sand,
But it tastes like oil and Fracking lies,
So, here is my advice,
If your turning left at the junction,
Check your mirrors before you signal,
Check left and right, check again,
And never forget your blind spot.
Election Year in the Pothole Nation
