Obama's Dream Of Hate

He’ll ride his steed in the wind each night;
The words of the prophet will come in floods;
Hussein’s on the verge, so calm and bright;
As we hear evil singing in the distant woods;
His sweet voice sings as the terrorist broods;
Soon the infidels will feel their wrath;
As Hussein speaks of impossible math.

All things spell peace he writes in books;
And the crowds rejoice in the morning’s change;
His friends delight as common crooks;
As we honest people feel really strange
Looking as though the end is in range.
Hussein just smiles like a glittering sun,
Riding high with his steed on the run.

The morning mist brings a change indeed;
As the terrorists come with hate-filled eyes;
They cut and slash with bloody greed;
A little girl cries as her mother runs, dies.
They all now know it was a bunch of lies.
Hussein just smiles like a glittering sun,
As his minions rape and kill for fun.

His name is Hussein and for good reason;
To become the first caliph of the caliphate;
Choosing him would be an act of treason;
He’s riding high but it is not too late;
To put a stop to this dream of hate.
The hate’s not mine but from Hussein,
Down deep he knows I’m not insane.