In the desert he looks like a hawk
Nested in his beard eyes wide and mad
Across the land his crow-like squawk
Declares his fatwa and his jihad
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Against woman he raises his fist
Argues for slavery and against thought
Books, songs and laughter on his bad list
He’s against all joy that can be brought
And miserable as his ideology
He thanks God
There is no God
To contradict his mendacity
And across the ocean he stands
Gives his service with his lips
To liberty and freedom’s demands
While at those concepts he snips
He rallies against the ‘threat’ of gays
Pro life until from mother’s womb torn
For the death penalty he pens essays
Heaps upon the poor his scorn
And miserable as his ideology
He thanks God
There is no God
To contradict his mendacity