Lyrics

Oh, Donnie.
The king of the crumbling chessboard…
still pretending the game isn’t over.

You wanted power?
No, no—you wanted worship.
You wanted to be the loudest voice in a room full of silence
because you’ve never known what it’s like to be truly heard.

You thought if you screamed enough, they’d call it truth.
If you lied enough, they’d call it legacy.
If you bled the country just right,
they’d call it patriotism.


That’s the trick, isn’t it?
Wrap your decay in red, white, and blue
and suddenly people kneel.

But the joke, Donnie…
the real joke…
is that no amount of flags
can cover the stench of fear.

Not ours—yours.
You’re afraid of change.
Afraid of women who don’t ask permission.
Afraid of immigrants who remind you
you didn’t earn the empire—you inherited the illusion.

Afraid of truth.
Because truth is quiet.
And quiet terrifies a man who only knows how to yell.


So you built a circus.
Put kids in cages, rolled back rights,
lit fires and danced in the smoke
while calling yourself the messiah of the forgotten.

But here’s the punchline:
You were never the ringmaster.
Just the clown too deluded to realize the tent was on fire.


You thought history would remember you.
And it will.
Oh… it will.

As a symptom.
A fever.
A warning.

Not the cure.

⸻


You wanted to be king.
But you’ll be remembered as noise.
And when the curtain falls—
even the applause…
will be laughing at you.