Cloak
A poem
You cloak yourself in God
You’re just a 2 bit fraud
Now we know you’ve no conception
Public access resurrection
In drag you look like Maude
The Golden Girls applaud
You missed the concert by Caruso
Your booby prize is Paul Camuso
Saddled with that nasty fellow
Two ton tony, Carve-a-fiello
Your lord and master is the baron
That’s why Chip he fled to Sharon
If we have to spare the rod
The drunk old husband starts to nod
Your hypocrisy is flawed
Your ethics oh so odd
You cloak yourself in God
For a woman I used to know
