November comes the victors made
Burning loss now resigned
Fifty and one can govern now
Nearly half are left behind
Ticker tape slowly falls
Mixed with dust and dirt and snow
Cast their ballot into the sea
It lands on their feet when no winds blow
There’s a way when there’s a will
Will they set the bridge on fire?
The party is barricaded atop
They made the bed that’s now their pyre
Between the bigot and the broad
They chose the us versus them
Built to a fury, froth and yell
Won’t be left behind again
Every man must be prepared at times
to spit on his hands, raise the black flag and begin to slit throats.