Mulct

The Democratic Party suffered

An ironic painful death

By the same flesh eating rot

That killed one hundred million innocents

With it's breath

And they cry horrible foul

To the God they disavow

And wail louder still

When we refuse to bow

To what these tyrannical appeasers

All along should have known

The reflection in the mirror is

A creation of their own

And the mulct paid to Totals is

The sharp, sickly smell of blood

Sweet in their nostrils

As the purposefully ignorant stride

Heavy booted down the slimy slope to hell

Where the lust to control presides

And human life has no worth

But to honor slaver's knell

With liberty's dearth