Bush & Company

How can these people be so blind?
What is it worth, their transient reign?
A wasted life, a fetid pond
And they don't know what waits Beyond. . .

What's to be gained from fleeting fame?
No more than squat, a blot, a stain
On this our world and on their name.
That's what they're going to leave behind---

Their spiteful schemes, their lying rants,
A half-remembered deviant dance.