And will clasp the sainted man as candidate at the Convention--
Clasp a rare and radiant man as candidate at the Convention."
Quote the Maven, "No intention."
"Be those words our sign of parting, man or fiend!" Jon shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back to your studio and your "fair and balanced" show!
Leave no puddles on the floor and take your lies you media whore!
Leave out of here because I'm sore!--besides its delegates you know!
No one believes you, its all lies, and he'll be chosen you old crow"."
Quote the Maven, "I'll just blow."
And the Maven, never flitting, still is sh*tting, still is sh*tting
On the public through the media we all adore;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the Eye of Sauron streaming casts his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!
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