This is for the skirmish "Junkyard Life" I got political #acoustic #singersongwriter #skirmish #acousticonetake #guywithukulele

There was a time the office held a hard-earned grace A quiet dignity that filled the highest place A sense of class, a wit that showed respect for all An understanding of the weight behind the call. They wore their colors, fought hard for their side But underneath, a broader sense of pride

You could disagree on taxes, laws, or lines but still believe good faith drove their designs. You didn't dismiss a rival with a playground sneer Or weaponize an insult just to feed on fear You didn't scream of cheaters when the numbers fell Or drag the process through a bitter, personal hell. But lines get crossed, and standards start to slide When the armor of the state is cast aside.

But in comes the Junkyard Dog, pulling up the stakes With golden monuments to every claim he fakes Trading the office for a garbage truck display Barking out insults just to clear the screen today. A constant war to guard a hollow, fragile throne Left structurally isolated, completely on his own.

Count the numbers up tens of thousands deep The false misleading promises he'd never keep. From business deals to ballots, the verdict reads the same: A legacy of fraud wrapped up inside a name. The vulgar phrases captured on a hot-mic feed The endless, desperate validation that he seems to need. The global stage is turning, public numbers fall A hollow sort of victory that means nothing at all.

Unprecedented power claimed with every breath Conflicts of interest bleeding institutions to death Eroding every norm that used to hold the ceiling high Beneath a gold-leaf banner up against the sky They say he gets his way, they say he gets it all But look behind the curtain of the fortress wall Hypersensitivity to every word of doubt A miserable existence when the lights go out.

But in comes the Junkyard Dog, pulling up the stakes With golden monuments to every claim he fakes Trading the office for a garbage truck display Barking out insults just to clear the screen today. A constant war to guard a hollow, fragile throne Left structurally isolated, completely on his own.

No room for calm. No room for peace. It's a fight to find country some release. Drained of our dignity. Left with the strain. Fight until the swamp named Trump is drained.