Trump and his followers [View all]
I’m reminded of Jethro Tull
Minstrel in the Gallery
The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down upon the smiling faces
He met the gazes, observed the spaces
Between the old men's cackle
He brewed a song of love and hatred
Oblique suggestions and he waited
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters
Static-humming, panel-beaters
Freshly day, glowed factory cheaters
Salaried and collar-scrubbing
He titillated men of action
Belly warming, hands still rubbing
On the parts they never mention
He pacified the nappy-suffering
Infant-bleating, one-line jokers
TV documentary makers, overfed and undertakers
Sunday paper, backgammon players
Family-scarred and women-haters
Then he called the band down to the stage
And he looked at all the friends he'd made
The minstrel in the gallery
Looked down on the rabbit-run
And he threw away his looking-glass
He saw his face in everyone.