The thirteenth musical thrill: what are you listening to?

Post by **aufbahrung** » Thu Jan 22, 2026 7:05 am

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*Trumpilot*
*(in the key of late‑night paranoia and cheap bourbon)*

**Verse 1**
He came down Main Street grinning, in a second‑hand parade,
Wearing aviators stolen from a pilot who’d mislaid
His sense of judgment, or his wallet, or his will to fight the sky.
Folks said *“He ain’t a captain, but he sure knows how to fly.”*

**Chorus**
Trumpilot, circlin’ low over town,
Droppin’ leaflets full of rumors just to keep the locals down.
Trumpilot, with a cockpit made of spin—
If you hear his engine humming, better not let him in.

**Verse 2**
He claimed he’d flown through hurricanes and never spilled a drink,
Said the clouds were full of secrets and the moon was on the brink.
He talked like revelation, but he smelled like gasoline.
Every prophecy he muttered left the runway lookin’ mean.

**Chorus**
Trumpilot, banking hard through the night,
Selling tickets to a crash he swears will turn out all right.
Trumpilot, with a map he drew in chalk—
If he offers you a ride, you might prefer to walk.

**Bridge**
And the tower keeps on callin’, but he never answers back.
He’s too busy dodging questions, too in love with losing track.
There’s a black box full of stories that he’ll never let you hear—
Just a logbook full of scribbles and a signature of fear.

**Verse 3**
Now the townsfolk watch the skyline for that wobble in the blue,
And they swear they hear him laughing when the wind comes cutting through.
But the runway lights are flickering, and the night is growing thin—
If he circles one more time, he might just try to land again.

**Final Chorus**
Trumpilot, ghosting low in the haze,
Still rehearsing his arrival like a myth he meant to raise.
Trumpilot, with a storm inside his grin—
If you see his shadow falling, better head on in.

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