It's like some shitty Greek play
With a father and a daughter
Heirs in red and white robes
In some Lynchian pose
Shoring up the news day
Waking praying he's a goner
The iron wall and bloody codes
That everyone knows
A surreptitious strain
These Kindred Klans
They Klap they Klap they Klap
They Klap their hands
To lies beneath the truth
The paranoia
Disinformation Blues
It's a shock to know the names
Of the straw men for the slaughter
Sexist, racist, homophobes
So hate filled and low
They march in khakis waving flames
Accusations ever broader
Chanting up and down the road
In some traitors shadow
A surreptitious strain
These Kindred Klans
They Klap they Klap they Klap
They Klap their hands
To what beneath the truth
The xenophobia
Disinformation Blues