My Father was a Badass

My Father was a Badass, born in 1921.

My Poppa was a Badass;

World War II Veteran.

My Daddy, he would be aghast

if he were around to see

the complete and utter mess

we have made of democracy. 

My Father was a Badass,

Electrical Engineer.

My Poppa was a Badass;

secret missions at Hughes 

Aircraft.

My Daddy, he would be aghast

if he were alive to see

the blatantly unruly test

of this twisted demagoguery. 

Fear-mongering, race-baiting, soul-sucking kleptocracy.

Gas-lighting, pathologically lying conglomeration monopoly.

Mind-f*cking, Fake-Newsing,

Orangutan-run total lunacy.

Demented, cemented,

stuck-in-the-Mud autocracy. 

My Father was a Badass,

a cattle-ranching Texan.

My Poppa was a Badass;

he would stand with those who’ve been hexin’

the patriarchy as it stands

on a canopy of flowers over Hell.

My Daddy, he would be aghast

at all the little-boy men in their little boy pants. 

My Dad would bust a gasket,

roll over in his casket

If he had one,

but he’s got none

to contain him,

who could blame him

if he persisted and resisted? 

Fear-mongering, race-baiting, soul-sucking kleptocracy.

Gas-lighting, pathologically lying conglomeration monopoly.

Mind-f*cking, Fake-Newsing,

Orangutan-run total lunacy.

Demented, cemented,

stuck-in-the-Mud autocracy.