Shift Like The Wind Poem by Hubert Wilson

He is not right, his truth is oblique.
He's out to spin, no time for anything truly deep.
He's got to shift, shift like a foul wind
to be lying again.

And he's got no principles but such a long line to crow.
Such a long, long line to crow.
To make it much beyond a dumb, venal show.
So he'll shift like a sordid wind.
Shift like an odorous wind.

He was born the son of a used car saleman.
Always spoke his devious line.
With an unread Bible in his waving hand.
Lived nine lives, told lies by the dozens times ten.
Gonna shift like a deceitful wind.


Accused and tried by public opinon.
From a symbolic rope he needed to swing.
On tv proclaiming his innocence as background patriotic music had a hollow ring.
Never was the kind for much other than his truth.
Gonna shift like a troubling wind.

He is still not right, his truth is even more oblique.
He only continues to spin, no time for anything remotely deep.
He's got to shift, shift like a tornadic wind.
Forever to be lying this corrosive politician -
Again, again and again.

Now America's dubious less principled choice -
One political party with no brain -
The other with no heart!