Trumpery is Reality
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Could I ever write something so new
That I can never ever explain it to you
Paint images you cannot comprehend
That offend you, tell you I’ve sinned
Could I conjecture a world so strange
It goes far beyond your limited range
And if I could, would it really matter
Riddles the former, clear in the latter
The answer is yes; I will tell you why
Grasped only in the sweet by and by
Icons life paints by my hand, my eye
Are only holy under some future sky
For then, it matters; the time is right
Long after we say our final goodnight
It might sound odd, I swear it’s true
In time, it’ll help me understand you
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