Iteration Propagandhi

Donald wept through the proceedings and his tears soaked through the canvas that
Cloaked his twisted face and stained his orange jumpsuit where
With such rare distinction he once displayed
The evidence of

His outstanding contributions to the maintenance of a kingdom come
But those days are gone, he's nothing more than a number
On a docket thick with shareholders and engineers
PR firms, politicians, war-profiteers

"How the fuck did I end up here?
This just isn't fair
It ain't no place for a billionaire!"

And he searches for the words to stop this table in mid-turn
Like "We are but old men" and "We only did what we were told"
Laughter from the gallery drowns out these vestiges
Of a profession's oldest defense

"The court will direct
The record to reflect
Compliments from the bench
You sir, are central casting's crowning achievement

And for your outstanding performance
In a comedic role
I'd like to dedicate the findings
Of the jury to the dead"