There's a fly in your dirty ice

With weatherman promises the president speaks, fair weather he proclaims
Under dark clouds a congress of cowards meets, a horse lost its reigns
An invisible mask hides his face, no reflection in a public mirror
He wears a weatherman's disgrace when no cloud will shed a tear
Disbelief in a public with blinders on their eyes, rain falls on the weak while the rich stay dry
Dams are built to hold the rain that they claim never came, instead only a fly
A shout of doubt, they will through you out, no water ration will come from your spout
So in a flood you'll be the first, covered in media mud, to die of thirst, drown in a drought
Water diverted for the perverted and the vice of making dry ICE