Fires burn and pitchforks pierce,

Within his foolish heart.

“Madmen slander something fierce”,

Claimed where fell’d his dart.

“Today its girls, tomorrow men”,

He spat his liar’s song.

“You speak of now, but what of then?

When we upheld the strong,

When we knew right from wrong,

When we could get along.

But get along, we did not

For you all began to rot.

When I read what you’ve been taught,

I see they’ve tied our country’s knot.”

But when one asks who ‘they’ might be,

He suddenly began to flee,

For he knows he’s said too much,

And I knew who he might be,

A man who is quite lost,

A man whose heart’s embossed

A black and red iron cross.

“Let the old turn into dust”

I said to the foolish man,

“These thoughts bring naught but blood and rust,

You lost before, with vile plans.

But new plans we now entrust,

The outcome of our world.”

Around his darts his fists were curled,

And in his glass his lips did drink,

And in his glass he did slink,

For a loser’s thought he held dear,

And from the party he got sneers.

And as he left the bar that night,

Online he did find respite.

Online he did release his spite.

With his boots and band replaced,

By a false online face.

For who could pressure him from life,

With his keyboard as a knife.

No one had to know his face,

For him to clean his sacred place.

The nation saved he did imagine,

As his heart still did blacken.

The frog man did his job,

As a bigot and a snob.