[Verse I] Donald Trump assumed the office for a second term’s decree, With vows to end the eastern war within hours twenty-three. Yet truce remained unwritten, the ceasefire fell apart, He Taco’d on the Putin front, he Taco’d on the art Of Netanyahu’s failed accord, as Gaza’s walls stood fast, While promised price reductions slipped into the fading past. The tariff checks and dividends, a ledger never penned, He Taco’d on the trade dispute, the market’s quiet end. The income tax remains intact, the files grow thick and still, He Taco’d on the Epstein names when his own name filled the bill. The Education Dept stands open, stalled before the Hill, He Taco’d on the Congress door, he Taco’d on the will. Greenland’s ice refused his claim, the Canadian map stood still, He Taco’d on the northern shore, he Taco’d on the hill. He prodded at the Persian gate, returned with merchant’s plea, And Taco’d on the Iranian shore before he crossed the sea. With Boeing contracts, soybean sales, a vendor’s brief display, He Taco’d on the Chinese tour, and brought the ledger’s day. [Chorus] The marble halls grow quiet, the proclamations fade, Each bold assertion meets the wall that careful hands have made. Through chambers built on rhetoric, the archives softly call, He Taco’d on the promises, and silence follows all. The record turns, the ledger stands, the echoes gather dust, While every unkept covenant returns to what is just. [Verse II] Pete Hegseth faced the record of a two-thousand-seventeen claim, And settled fifty thousand dollars, Secretary by another name. Tom Homan’s discreet exchange, recorded on the wire, Fifty thousand changed in shadow, until the office caught the fire. Then Elon Musk, the architect, received the court’s decree, Two billion six for markets misled, DOGEstyle left to flee. The coin remains unanchored, the valuation stalls, He Taco’d on the digital realm, as every ledger falls. [Chorus] The marble halls grow quiet, the proclamations fade, Each bold assertion meets the wall that careful hands have made. Through chambers built on rhetoric, the archives softly call, He Taco’d on the promises, and silence follows all. The record turns, the ledger stands, the echoes gather dust, While every unkept covenant returns to what is just. [Verse III] Marco Rubio, newly titled by the Hanzo scribe’s design, Watched David Rivera’s verdict cross the partisan line. The former mentor’s testimony broke the alliance they had made, A quiet backstabber’s record in the ledger’s cold display. Pam Bondi, Attorney General, produced the binders’ sheet, Yet found them void of substance, a hollow, blank retreat. Karoline Leavitt spoke a jest before the Hilton’s sound, While campaign debts of three hundred thousand weighed upon the ground. A marriage to a developer, three decades set apart, If she met Donald in Virgin Islands, she could've been the fourth lady. [Bridge] The architecture of the claim, the weight of what is sworn, Meets the quiet scrutiny of records yet un-torn. No title shields the deficit, no platform masks the fall, When every bold decree must answer to the ledger’s call. [Outro] The names remain inscribed upon the public record’s page, Each vow, each deflection, each chapter of the age. The gilded stage grows still, the echoes softly cease, And history records the promises, and where they met their peace. He Taco’d on the eastern front, he Taco’d on the trade, He Taco’d on the archive, he Taco’d on the shade. The ledger turns, the record stands, the final judgment waits, While every unfulfilled decree resigns to quiet fates.
