I don’t know
Who the devil is
Or where he lives
What excites him
Or what makes his face glow
What is the color of his skin
To us humans is he a kin
What language does he speak
To impress his thoughts so bleak
Awry we go in our communication
Causing widespread humiliation
I don’t know
Who the Barbatos is
Or where he lives.
But echoes of altercation
Such as his are heard
In a shiny White House
On top of a hill.
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