You live the season of grovel,

Of royal visits, Nobel Prize.

A gaudy blanket of faint praise

Spreads out before your very eyes,

And no one makes a mention of

Your record of pathetic lies.

You’re sitting on your gilded throne,

Accumulating all your cash;

You take revenge upon your foes

While spouting out your daily trash,

And will not bother to turn up

And figh...

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