The Biden bust,
The realist rust,
We were the land of plenty,
But we’ve sold off all and gantry.
Those vested interests,
in their magnificent homes,
spending their time,
with their golden phones.
They’ve ruined and robbed,
and pushed us down,
cant get a job,
that occupies my crown.
My executive function,
cries out loud,
mediate not meditate,
the maddness for downs.
I heard they’ve declared,
full on war,
but we Aussies will march,
till the psycho’s are found.
Ripping them out,
of their gigantic grace,
making them account,
for these genesidal games.
Who will rule,
who wont take their crap?
Who will slap them,
Till they lie down flat.
They think they can,
handstring the world,
hurting the poor,
the young and the old..
Be it Bill,
Elon or Fobb,
Biden Trump
or the families of old.
They’ve had their monopoly,
picked on the weak,
now the people,
will rise up to they’re feet.
The blood will rush,
upto their crown,
till they come to their sensors,
and admit they fought sound.
Crying and wailing,
that’s how I feel,
as my saving disolved,
my teeth grinding pound.
Monies not worthless,
its worse than polution,
anyone caught with it,
is liable for dissolution.
Who’ll be left,
holding the bag,
while we decide,
who’s currency’s lags.
We need someone,
who wont take the turds,
care for the weak,
deliver for the herds.
People will work,
and pay for the priviledge,
that how we know,
were blessed with their givage.
Thanks for your service,
appreciate the goods,
thanks for contributing,
love to your hoods.
Hoarders, savers,
investors too,
they’ll come for your flesh,
soul’ll go too.
The workers, retired,
the idol and kids,
will bandy together,
Filling our streets with those ill’s.
Bosses Rulers,
fat cats and slacks,
will suffers severly,
holding back the attacks.
You’d better get better,
help everyone,
remaining friendly,
till this time is done.