Charade

Charade I get tired of people, who put on a charade, Their true feelings you can never gauge. The mirror is cloudy, their stance is blurred, What they have to say, you’ve already heard. From both sides of their mouth, they love to speak, But their point of view is always weak. They never admit defeat; never agree to be wrong, They play it over and over, like a worn out song. They are the master of nothing, but a professor of all, Always willing to let someone else take the fall. Their charade is always on display, what a show they put on, They are the jackasses of the political farm.