sycophant (song in G-Minor)
He's a rattled slat sycophant
a stumbling, bumbling deviant
a double chinned greasy wheeled money man
selling guns to tots for gold
His brothers and sisters are obstacles
commoditized hot-heated Popsicles
Just like mud-puddles under his chariot
or cotton pills plucked from his clothes
He worships a mass market fealty
a contrived message plastic reality
Where inadequate sheeple all scurry for parts
in a play that he trademarked last June
We could wish for his death, or epiphany
But his sons carry on his cacophony
On this mangled American highway
That we ride on together alone