The Secret Service trusted with Trump's leash
Would never trust the moron with control.
The steering wheel's kept firmly out of reach;
they'll trot him out in time to speak his role.
'Til then, his backseat door stays firmly locked;
he'd just break something, left at large, alone.
The crazies mustn't penetrate his box,
And--if they could--they'd smash his god-damned phone.
Each agent's vetted; tough case to suborn!
But Trump knows any mortal has a price;
some burn for hookers, some crave bootleg porn.
There's opportunity exploiting Vice.
As midterms loom, there's not a lot of time
to stem Trump's tidal wave of gangland crime.
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