by Nick Gisburne
You’re crazy, but I like your face. You’ll do,
The rough and ready knucklehead I need.
A pair of pistols, Deringers, for you,
And money for expenses, as agreed.
You’re curious. Allow me to explain.
The motive for your mission is a lie.
A bullet in the presidential brain
Will not complete the story. This is why:
He never was the president at all.
A clever copy, clockwork to the core.
The government, a shill, a sham, will fall,
A storm to reignite the Civil War.
Tonight the world will tremble at the truth.
Good luck to you. Good hunting, Mr Booth.
