Go back to where you came from, Donald Trump.
Go back to the bottom of the Jamaica, Queens dump.
Go back to the 1927 KKK rally where your father was arrested,
Go back to your federally funded housing where Black people were rejected.
Go back to Roy Cohn, and coke-sniffing at Studio 54,
Go back to kissing Mobsters asses and salivating for more.
Go back to Gambino, Genovese, Gotti and John Cody,
Go back to being the Mob’s whore, and every Russian’s toady.
Go back to calling for death for the innocent Central Park 5,
Go back to preaching hate in print and on TV, live.
Go back to your mental shitholes, your anti-immigrant bile,
Go back to pinching young pussies, in Jeffrey Epstein-style.
Go back to lying about Obama’s birth,
And 10,000 other things.
Go back to lying about your girth,
And your criminal enterprise rings.
Go back to stealing 9/11 money,
And cheating on your taxes.
Go back to hush money to your honeys,
And pleading for Wiki’s email haxes.
Go back to where you came from, Donald Trump,
Go back to the Ninth Circle of Dante’s Hellish Dump.
Go back to all your mirrors and your hairs — fewer and fewer;
Go back to where you were born, in the scummiest of sewers.