Tree Trump 160
The deck of cards dealt us reaps forged worship
Proboscis snorts caution to the phlegm leaked
Slowly from prestidigitation
Is the hand quicker than the all seen eye?
A question in a sense sentences speak
Causing our grief to fleece themed thanksgiving
For such a vast empire of handpicked choice
The lasting leaves clinging to broken limbs
Standing as rooted yet appears dead
Fruitless and barren stripped top to bottom
As one questions, "why the song lacks the rhyme?"
Logs stacked await the weight of another
Therefore the gong slaps the chime as truth speaks
To the tune of mockery gasps hatred
And fraud sings the chorus groping schooled thought
As this world just like conversation...
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