Wow.  Apparently, I’m cynical about the chances of a national, political reconciliation.

Making up…

If you give me back the eye you tore from its socket
I’ll give you back the ear I keep in my pocket.
Don’t mind the lint; it’s done with its stint
As my dog’s chew toy.

My, my, we’ll have a grand ol’ time
Cleaning up from the mud and the slime
Good feelings to replace the gloom;
Like an early honeymoon.

I’ll grin so wide I think my face might split;
It’ll be so nice not to have your axe in it.
We’ll shake hands, and we’ll take a stand
And promise to be friends.

Best friends forever?
Surely!

My, my, I don’t really think you’ve changed;
All in all, I think you’re still deranged.
But everyone’s watching as we smile and hug
I kick my gun underneath the rug.

When they’re not looking, we’ll be back to war
Twice as vicious as we were before.
I’ve got my eye, and it fits just right;
Just can’t wait to start the fight…