How can we trust,
when your getting paid.
To help or hurt,
or whatever you do.
Whatever you do,
gets spent on new shoes.
News shoes for your kids,
in there private new schools.
We know there’s a lot,
of pressure to pounce.
But the honor’s are in,
for highest wages sent down.
So you want greater function,
for the new super race.
But Fauci my dear,
where goes all the grace?
If ever there is,
something to fear,
It’s a long nosed doctor,
who doesn’t drink beer.
Someone connected,
Someone powerful.
With a name like that,
They be coming from no hood
Not from a gully,
or even a vil.
More like some acres,
In Hollywood Hills.
It’s very hard,
To glue populous together,
Especially when,
Left with a feather.
But tickle we what,
For a needle or a pickle.
This poem all up,
Get back to the cycal