Epstein Island VIP Edition

Covered all in emeralds, absolutely grand,
there’s an isle of perverts hidden from the land.
There’s an isle of perverts hidden from the land,
where elite old grandpas always in demand.

Grandpas flew from everywhere, from across the earth,
ugly on the outside, monstrous from their birth,
ugly on the outside, monstrous from their birth,
partying like crazy for all they are worth.

Running round completely nude, sniffing up the snow,
losing all their memories, gout and vertigo,
losing all their memories, gout and vertigo,
striking weirdest poses, putting on a show.

Playing with the models, they would misbehave,
even with one foot already in the grave,
even with one foot already in the grave —
this is how the shady, rich elites behave.

Suddenly the logbooks catch the public eye:
passengers included a presidential guy,
passengers included a presidential guy —
he’s a holy patriot, you’re the foreign spy.

The music fades away, the party reaches end,
the rich and famous grandpas go back to play pretend,
but somewhere in the ocean, beneath the sunny skies,
the island keeps its secrets, the island keeps the lies.

And yet — the island’s still there, somewhere in the bay.