Orange jumpsuit, yellow hair;
baby's crying, "It's not fair."
Got three billion in the bank;
doesn't matter in the 'tank'.
Eight by six, a desk and bunk,
none of that old White House junk.
I'll say this for Riker's Isle,
it ain't got Mar'Lago style.
I'm not lonely; here I've met
ghosts of my old cabinet.
Steve and George and Paul and Mike,
orange jumpsuits they all liked.
All along I cried, "Fake news!"
Jack Smith had some different views.
Baby whimpers, "It's not fair."
Orange jumpsuit, yellow hair.
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