Friday, November 10, 2006
I ran against an empty seat,
And still I found him tough to beat.
More votes were cast against my name...
Few takers for my handshake game.
I waved, but often none waved back.
Many neighbors prayed I'd get the sack.
Yeah, sycophants stood close to me,
Their self-interest, oh, so plain to see.
My victory came midst bar complaints
And revelations sure to taint.
That sorry case I must take to trial.
My detractors will also walk that mile...
"Whatcha got Mikey?" they'll inquire.
The talking heads will be breathing fire.
"If it's a farce, if there's no case,
If justice was hijacked to win this race..."
Now I have to show my hand.
Everyone's watching, foe and fan.
I won...and watching are eyes of steel.
Is this how "victory" is supposed to feel?