To go into politics not for national pride,
Just for something to do while alive.
Its the love of the land and all between its sand,
Where the people living their lives can avoid the bland.
Its the show, its the go,
the start of the redistributing you know,
the political revival that makes its people quite well,
the political recital that romanticizes the southern bell.
Its a new start not a bitter tart,
We just need to throw out the bags of fart.
Their strange rhetric, their brazen metric.
If they had a clue they’d be sure to getrick.
Why wake with such a change?
Why decide to humililurze?
Why did the good god familurize?
And create a pasture for us to thrive?
Devin Davis