Mr. President

I'm just as you are, I born here too
But you'll call me a newcomer, it's true
The reason's painfully mundane
You simply failed to comprehend
To feel the passage of time and change
That alters values, shifts the range
And your venomous, foolish talk
Sweeps all away like a raging fall
In our embryonic state
We're sliding down the slope, it's late
Here's a tribute, but where's the praise?
We're sinking in a filthy haze

We're always short of capable hands
And success is in propaganda's stance
It's not just the work of barbarian bands
It's the inflation of motivation's strands
No desire to work for the good
Of those who loot as if they could
The wood's soaked through, damp and grey
And you throw it in the fire, twisting away
Let's aim for eudaimonia's goal
Not just for your hedonistic stroll
But you force your hegemony's role
Claiming fascism as a miracle's toll

I fear you lack the wit and the grace
To grasp the meaning of these lines
Piranhas without future's trace
In a state of childish decline
You speak from high, in slang so rough
Erogenous zones are not enough
When will you quiet down and cease?
Instead of a scepter, use a whip for peace