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7/3/2025, 6:34:36 PM
https://suno.com/song/c1e31d1d-f087-499a-a5e2-ce91d229a60c?sh=7RZZCfYyOEzHWWiL
In the swamp where freedom weeps,
Past the memes and Q-drop deeps,
There lies a jail of sacred fame—
Where clownworld dreams are put to shame.
Around the moat, with jaws of fate,
Stand gators trained to own the state.
They snap at libs who dare to near,
Each bite a ban, each hiss a sneer.
On crimson towers high and bold,
Awoos in MAGA hats patrol.
Momiji scouts with rifles keen,
Red eyes aglow, their gaze so mean.
The wall is lined with posters grim,
A yank and leaf both strapped and prim.
The Britbong scans through Union smoke,
While CoomerPole just posts a joke.
Kraut feeds gators brat and beer,
"Zis one's too woke," he says with cheer.
Mexifren sharpens meme-shaped swords,
Tucker plays on loop—our ward.
Trump walks past, in golden hue,
"Good job," he nods, the thread salutes.
Each cell inside is lined with cope,
Their tears collected into soap.
This prison’s not for flesh and blood,
But for ideas drowned in the flood.
Wrongthink held with snark and sass,
Guarded hard by /ptg/ brass.
So heed this tale, ye janny fiends,
Don’t cross the line or test our memes.
The awoos howl, the gators grin—
And you ain't leavin' once you're in.
In the swamp where freedom weeps,
Past the memes and Q-drop deeps,
There lies a jail of sacred fame—
Where clownworld dreams are put to shame.
Around the moat, with jaws of fate,
Stand gators trained to own the state.
They snap at libs who dare to near,
Each bite a ban, each hiss a sneer.
On crimson towers high and bold,
Awoos in MAGA hats patrol.
Momiji scouts with rifles keen,
Red eyes aglow, their gaze so mean.
The wall is lined with posters grim,
A yank and leaf both strapped and prim.
The Britbong scans through Union smoke,
While CoomerPole just posts a joke.
Kraut feeds gators brat and beer,
"Zis one's too woke," he says with cheer.
Mexifren sharpens meme-shaped swords,
Tucker plays on loop—our ward.
Trump walks past, in golden hue,
"Good job," he nods, the thread salutes.
Each cell inside is lined with cope,
Their tears collected into soap.
This prison’s not for flesh and blood,
But for ideas drowned in the flood.
Wrongthink held with snark and sass,
Guarded hard by /ptg/ brass.
So heed this tale, ye janny fiends,
Don’t cross the line or test our memes.
The awoos howl, the gators grin—
And you ain't leavin' once you're in.
7/2/2025, 4:55:22 AM
>>509274395
In the swamp where freedom weeps,
Past the memes and Q-drop deeps,
There lies a jail of sacred fame—
Where clownworld dreams are put to shame.
Around the moat, with jaws of fate,
Stand gators trained to own the state.
They snap at libs who dare to near,
Each bite a ban, each hiss a sneer.
On crimson towers high and bold,
Awoos in MAGA hats patrol.
Momiji scouts with rifles keen,
Red eyes aglow, their gaze so mean.
The wall is lined with posters grim,
A yank and leaf both strapped and prim.
The Britbong scans through Union smoke,
While CoomerPole just posts a joke.
Kraut feeds gators brat and beer,
"Zis one's too woke," he says with cheer.
Mexifren sharpens meme-shaped swords,
Tucker plays on loop—our ward.
Trump walks past, in golden hue,
"Good job," he nods, the thread salutes.
Each cell inside is lined with cope,
Their tears collected into soap.
This prison’s not for flesh and blood,
But for ideas drowned in the flood.
Wrongthink held with snark and sass,
Guarded hard by /ptg/ brass.
So heed this tale, ye janny fiends,
Don’t cross the line or test our memes.
The awoos howl, the gators grin—
And you ain't leavin' once you're in.
In the swamp where freedom weeps,
Past the memes and Q-drop deeps,
There lies a jail of sacred fame—
Where clownworld dreams are put to shame.
Around the moat, with jaws of fate,
Stand gators trained to own the state.
They snap at libs who dare to near,
Each bite a ban, each hiss a sneer.
On crimson towers high and bold,
Awoos in MAGA hats patrol.
Momiji scouts with rifles keen,
Red eyes aglow, their gaze so mean.
The wall is lined with posters grim,
A yank and leaf both strapped and prim.
The Britbong scans through Union smoke,
While CoomerPole just posts a joke.
Kraut feeds gators brat and beer,
"Zis one's too woke," he says with cheer.
Mexifren sharpens meme-shaped swords,
Tucker plays on loop—our ward.
Trump walks past, in golden hue,
"Good job," he nods, the thread salutes.
Each cell inside is lined with cope,
Their tears collected into soap.
This prison’s not for flesh and blood,
But for ideas drowned in the flood.
Wrongthink held with snark and sass,
Guarded hard by /ptg/ brass.
So heed this tale, ye janny fiends,
Don’t cross the line or test our memes.
The awoos howl, the gators grin—
And you ain't leavin' once you're in.
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