Mogul tweeter, crow-bull tweeter, act your age! You
are like a spoiled brat with a tantrum, who’s riled.
Can’t you grow up and not show up in a rage? You
as a grown-nil tweeter show all you revile.

It’s your style to be quite thuggish, faux-bull tweeter.
Did your parents never teach you truthful arts?
All your screams outward stream, show us you’re vexed.
Hew and cry there, many lies shared.
It is sore that you feel, mogul tweeter.
They’re getting old, your scolds, so stow it—have a heart.

Infantile’s your style; it’s ugly, mogul tweeter.
Must you emit on Twitter every brain fart?
All your screams make it seem you’re always vexed.
Hew and cry there. Come on, guy, spare
us from how sore you feel, mogul tweeter!
They’re getting old, your scolds; grow up when your reign starts.

Mogul tweeter, puerile tweeter.