by our very own Bob B:

The thug’ll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar, that tomorrow there’ll be fun
Just thinking about tomorrow
Antifa brings riots, and the sorrows just begun

When I’m stuck with some gay that’s gray and phony
I just print more ballots, and grin, and say, oh
Hamas’ll come out tomorrow
Oh, you gotta hang out tomorrow, come what may

Tomorrow, tomorrow, a new cause tomorrow
Your troubles won’t go away

The taxes come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be more!
Just grifting some more tomorrow
‘Til we ruin the rich folks and the rest become poor

When I’m stuck for some words that are vague and phony
I just call AOC or Gavin and say
These are our best hopes tomorrow
Oh, we’ve gotta hang on ’til tomorrow, come what may

Tomorrow, tomorrow, you’ll find out tomorrow
Can’t trust anything they say
Tomorrow, tomorrow, we’ll fool you tomorrow
No answers, you’ll always pay