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Excuses, Excuses

a rap/poem about lecherous men in power

By CT IdlehousePublished 2 months ago 2 min read

Is there a government office not full of sex pests?

Is there a church in this country not manned by degenerates?

Why are we obsessing about Bubba Trump giving head

When there's a 1000 women still waiting for justice?

/

I don't give a fuck about your party;

If you showed up in his lobby,

If you did evil things to children's bodies,

You deserve to be discarded.

I don't give a fuck about your values,

When you won't even feed these kids.

We the People are gonna organize

And put an end to all this shit.

/

Excuses, excuses,

Won't cover up the bruises,

Won't help them sleep at night,

Trying to live with the abuse.

Excuses, excuses,

We shouldn't have to do this.

You could have just believed them

But now we're lighting the fuses.

So, go to hell,

And fuck yourself.

We're lighting a match,

Gonna burn this motherfucker down.

So, go to hell,

And fuck yourself.

It's time for revenge,

Good fucking luck getting out now.

/

I don't believe for a goddamn minute,

You boarded his yacht to see the ocean.

Y'all been playing with your noses,

Cracking jokes about the motions.

The ones who are debating

That a 15-year-old's a woman

Needs a hard-drive check, a stomped-on neck,

A cell block and a warden.

/

Don't you dare preach to me,

About forgiveness and redemption,

You lost all the right to heaven,

When you assaulted girls in your temple.

Just 'cause a pedophile president pardons you,

Doesn't absolve you of the crime.

Once that orange fucker is gone,

You're going back to serve your time.

/

Excuses, excuses,

Won't cover up the bruises,

Won't help them sleep at night,

Trying to live with the abuse.

Excuses, excuses,

We shouldn't have to do this.

You could have just believed them

But now we're lighting the fuses.

So, go to hell,

And fuck yourself.

We're lighting a match,

Gonna burn this motherfucker down.

So, go to hell,

And fuck yourself.

It's time for revenge,

Good fucking luck getting out now.

/

Excuses, excuses,

We all know what the truth is.

You can hide

But we'll find

All of your filthy little secrets.

slam poetrysocial commentarySong Lyrics

About the Creator

CT Idlehouse

I write stories and articles. Sometimes they're good.

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