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This year I'm gonna get a huge countdown clock,
Something in yellow with a massive tic-toc,
To let the world know how long it needs wait,
How long till The Moment, how much breath to bate,
Till I show our president I'm taking a knee,
To protest his calling guys 'those s.o.b.'.
You're probably wondering what's with the clock,
When it's just one joker with a mission to knock
Ol' Mr. Prez whose mouth evokes truckers,
Miners, muggers and mafia bloodsuckers,
Losing stock brokers and maniacs with axes,
Moguls like Don who dodge drafts and prop taxes.
Thing is, see, these days, if you don't have a clock?
Your event's a no-show and you're a wind sock.
You've got to count down, you've got to raise buzz,
Wake up the small children and hassle The Fuzz,
Do a Grinch Christmas, at windows throw rock,
But above all else do you need that tic-toc.
For instance CNN counts down all the time,
And not for big deals like this protest of mine.
They tick off the time till a debate or election,
Till Super Bowl kickoff or Karl's fall selection,
Till Mueller's report or the end of the world,
Without a clock, champ, your flag's left all furled.
And as my clock ticks, the crowds will appear,
To cheer on my gesture and make Trump lend ear,
My knee will near ground as they count down the secs,
Celebs to the front and my arm 'round Don's ex,
All due to the spell of the countdown of clocks,
But without one your wingding's left up on the blocks.