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Grovel
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...
Friday 14th November 2025 8:30 am

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