we are magistrate of all things
unacceptable in within our reach, we are master, commander; your executioner and your priest & your monarch. . . Crawford's babe in the Camp of David has been chosen by the very elect;

Glory Hallelujah The King Shall Not Be Mov'd!

we are the illuminati errorgatti and we are accountable to no one
but the king of the white marble hill; we respect no art, no letter, no appeal
for equal treatment because every American
knows that presidents, not the poll are always right. . . God told him so. . . and there is nothing you can do about it;

Glory Hallelujah The King Shall Not Be Mov'd!

so don't take the death of your privacy too personal. . . and he knows what is best for his country, his people, and you will be made silent if you ask him what he's keeping from you--besides, you question God's elect'd one, and you risk the wrath of questioning God [play'd by Pat Robertson] and all the people said

Waive your rights in the air!
Waive 'em like ya' just don't care!
Glory Hallelujah,
The King Shall Not Be . . . 

and that is when the trump of the second term shall sound and place formerly known as America will recognize herself no more. 
 

 © 2006 cynth’ya lewis reed
all rights reserv’d    
       U.S. privacy is a joke. Just ask any mail carrier