In continuing with said sad traditions,
and bloody hideous fashion statements,
shamefully formed and carried out by Jesus Himself,
the single religious portion,
centered prominently around fuming,
our seemingly endless lecture/ridicule barrage,
heavily weighting this Passover/Spring Fever dinner,
will have its very first speaker/performing/commentator,
bringing about the venomous ringmaster,
unmatched in a wide series of other great opening exploiters,
leaving our remaining headliner/crypt keeper,
focused as His esteemed challenger and running mate,
God almighty.
Now, swiftly barring further ado,
because it’s show time, folks,
thank you, and good evening/night,
depending on how long I last,
uh, and don’t forget your comfy seats,
after that quite handsome standing ovation,
presumably for little ol’ Me,
I unabashedly gather,
when who else could possibly generate such enthusiasm,
ha, please, no kind of answers required,
or obviously even allowed heard,
since I’m your sole mouth and also ears of the party.
Sharwrong's Song 