power brokers

'though Clinton bore the old dynastic name
a voice lamenting in the wilderness
refused to front for donors in the game
and pulled no circus stunts to lure the press
her husband'd taught her to triangulate
as if all voters laid on one straight line
but bartering half-measures for their hate
seemed 'bout as likely as water-to-wine
the DNC just jammed it down our throat
a weaker candidate 'cause it's her turn
presuming Independents would still vote
despite their sleight of hand to quench the Bern
the Democrats contrived a way to lose
against a fascist few would ever choose