The Source

He walks among the gilded group
The ones they call elite
Each one a lazy liberal dupe
Who just cannot compete

They lie about the ones they hate
It makes them feel complete
He buys into it without debate
And mimics their deceit

He cries when questioned on his views
Refusing to answer in arrogance
Hatred is fine for those who abuse
His right to his stone cold silence

He cries about his dad’s abuse
And thinks he’s right to judge
While not allowing an excuse
Holding hatred as his grudge

His moral compass is all relative
But not for those he opposes
He’s quick to say no alternative
His way is right, no supposes

Against the background of his hate
He claims the moral high ground
One can only imagine how irate
When faced with the truth renowned

His own actions are above the crowd
No judgement allowed on what he’s done
Yet he judges all whose words are loud
Against him said in truth and fun

His Dad was an evil, sinful man
Despised by all who knew him well
At least we know where his hate began
From a man of moral fiber, now in hell