Jeff & Kevin--meet the Divine 7

 
   "Jeff & Kevin--meet the Divine 7"
   
Hail lazy,
Full of Injun crazy--
Hallowed be thy mashed potatoes (for Dan Quayle) and gritty gravy--
How are your wives and daughters?
Do they reflect your countenance's homo-erotic slaughters?
Don't worry--I'm as chaste as they make,
Maybe KGB, maybe a truck driver, maybe fake;
Alas, hold not contempt for liberty;
Indeed, Pee-Wee still calls her Elvira, 
And Mr. Morrison lights a Hollywood bungalow fire--
So break the law,
Rack up your crimes,
The Divine 7 fuel my rhymes;
However, there is one among them
With no sense of humor,
In the Book of Enoch--
Will he give you a tumor?
I've been dead and deep in hell
With them bones that a ruthless caretaker did sell,
As she flipped my matriarch around like a slave,
Cackling cruelty, being true hate forged and made--
You know damn well these thugs don't care
About killing the elderly, even in their own domesticated lair;
Thus, why deny the truth to the masses,
When many among us know you both wear the devil's glasses?
That one with the mustache, he damn well knows,
And if he stands up; next, he overthrows.