You sit there shallow as a one foot pond.
Shadow boxing in the mirror, an intimate bond.
Wait, let me get that chair for you kind sir.
I wouldn’t want your peasants to cause a stir.
For what else is more important than your entitlement?
Just look at you there, that’s money well spent.
Can I fetch you some grapes or alcohol?
Wash your feet, jump off a cliff, or take the fall?
Shall I call you Mr. President?
Or clean your mansion while I sleep in a tent?
You won’t change, you’re too far gone.
I’ve lost hope in you, these stitches are sown!
So keep doing what you do, so I can puke.
Dehydration sets in, your charade is a fluke!
The truth is your throne is the biggest joke.
And your anointing by self is as good as broke.