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All Along the Circus Trail
“There must be some kinda way out of here,” said Obama to his chief.
There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.
Journalist, they drink my wine, admen twist my words,
None of them along the line, know what any of it is worth.”
“No reason to get excited,” the chief he kindly spoke.
“There are many here among us, who understand the force of hope.
For you and they, have made this more, and it has become our fate.
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.”
All along the circus trail, pundits sold their views,
While politicians came and went, public servants, too.
Outside in the distance, an elephant turns foul,
November is approaching, and the wind begins to howl.
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