Chorus: Like smoke blown to heaven on the wings of the wind, our country, our conquered country, perishes. Its palaces are overrun by the fierce flames and the murderous spear.
--- Euripides The Trojan Women Orange has almost no perfect rhymes. The only word in the 20-volume historical Oxford English Dictionary that rhymes with orange is sporange, a very rare alternative form of sporangium (a botanical term for a part of a fern or similar plant). Trumpan™ Chorus: To everything there is a season and there must surely be a reason nothing rhymes with orange — except sporange. Melania™: What was I thinking? I could have married the fat Brazilian playboy. Ivanka™: My shoes slip on and off as easily as my new religious faith. Tiffany™: I am Trump Bunch Jan -- lost in Ivanka’s shadow. I hate her. A lot. Trumpan™ Chorus: With acid-angry pock-marked skin nothing looks good — not even the fruit in color ideal for a prison jumpsuit. Melania™: I gave up more than I thought when I married him. Missing my tear ducts. Ivanka™: You can wear my shoes everywhere and anytime! Unless you’re Muslim. Tiffany™: In every pic I’m always off to one side. Like literally. Trumpan™ Chorus: He’s just like that kid in fifth grade who everybody was afraid would grow up to be an arsonist-serial-killer. Melania™: I had the cheekbones. He had the money. But now all I want is out. Ivanka™: My new line reflects the American rainbow! P.S. That means “white.” Tiffany™: Alec Baldwin will play you in the film made from my book. Happy Father’s Day! Trumpan™ Chorus: There must surely be a reason if for everything there is a season nothing rhymes with orange — except sporange.
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