The Press

It's a barrage of violence, sickness and shame

You struggle for your living and you're paying with pain

I read of the poor, and the women and the victims to blame

For the collapse of the country again and again

They're checking all the people

In all their holes

Whips and lashes and cuts back

To double standards, backhanders

It's a grey desolate country

But we're glorious again

He's peeling his banana while roasting your nuts

You've got to get your gums around his plums

He's going to modify your attitude

And customize your crawl

With the muck he prints

He's got to us all