Russell G. Robison


You watch them on their playground
The one that’s called D.C.
And wonder if these learned ones
Will ever learn to see

They do the same old song and dance
Our future they divine
Bought and paid for don’t you know
And they are doing fine

Excluded from the choices made
Secluded from our sight
They make a joke and call it law
Then tell us it’s all right

A tiresome tale too often told
That they will not admit
They need to flush their toilet
As they are so full of it