He dwells among the lying ways,
Beside the River of Awry.
A podunk, part of the Obama craze,
And thus is free to lie and lie.
His hate-filled heart stands all alone,
Buried in his own hateful scorn.
Demented soul, cold silent stone
Wicked, vile of Satan’s born.
He’ll live his life with few who’ll know,
The moment he’ll cease to be,
While Satan will wait with a smile below.
Oh, now only if he could see!
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