My Voodoo Dolls

My voodoo dolls just do not work
that Pukin's not gone straight to hell
nor tRump, that dirty grifting jerk,
my voodoo dolls don't seem to work,

I've tried gold pins for what that's worth
and blood of bat and chanted spells
beneath blood moons, I haven't shirked,
my voodoo dolls don't seem to work.

No faltering in their foul smirks
as they ring freedom's death knell bell
in their bloodied vile fascist kirk
no faltering of their sick smirks,

And then I find by some strange quirk
why my dark arts don't work too well
my innocence can't pierce their murk
my voodoo dolls don't seem to work

I need to rage and go berserk
till stenching sulphurous smells
calls up to me devil's who lurk
to teach me how to go berserk.

I'd wed Satan himself for the perks
or offer up my soul to sell,
to get rid of these two evil jerks
my voodoo dolls don't seem to work...