The Springsteen Defense
Oh, sure! If only Springsteen, has-been punk,
Had brought his full force regally to bear—
The concentration of a Shaolin monk,
The wisdom that he’s eager now to share,
The neon sign that says he’ll always care,
The eloquence that makes him Cicero—
Why, then, the bastard Trump would not be there
In office as our apprehensions grow.
Springsteen, you fraud: the Jersey thugs I know
Laugh at the cracked pretensions you project.
A twelve-year-old who snuck into your show
Could kick your skinny ass. Do I detect
Madness in these vain whines that you renew?
Trump whipped the world. He’d make short work of you.