Even when that woman tells the truth,
She’s lying somehow.

It is her raison d’être for now—
Until her bluff is called and
She becomes the roommate of Satan
In that eternal fire,
The existence of which she is not now
Willing to admit.

And while her end will be just, indeed,
That doesn’t help us now, does it?

But if she is shameless,
Then what are we
Who tolerate the travesty
Of her constant lies
And do not snatch her
From her rostrum?

How can we sleep at night?

Can no honest person be found
To take her office?