In IKEA's maze, I wander and roam,
A labyrinth of lamps and cozy home,
With dreams of a kitchen so sleek and neat,
Yet lost in a forest of self-assemble seats.
Through endless aisles of chairs and beds,
Where visions of storage dance in my head,
I search for an exit, a path to be free,
But each turn I take leads me back to B3.
Then a thought occurs, a curious twist,
Could it be the CIA in on this?
They've changed the directions and turned me around,
In IKEA, forever, I'm helplessly bound.
Oh c'mon man how naive can you be? Between Biden fumbling through debates that should've been child's play and constantly forgetting names, and this guy getting martyred for not getting shot in the face, I'm sorry to say but this race won't even be close.
(And that VP pick? People who are going for the main attraction called Trump aren't going to give a rats ass about the VP pick.)