A passel of rascals; The cause of the hassle, Guilty of the catcalls, Would normally have pratfalls. Never suffer from blackballing; Their ethics are appalling But greed is calling the shots. In the end what have we got?
We have a den of thieves Rolling up their sleeves To count the loot they stole Fulfilling their roles of criminals; Not the least subliminal, But right out front to be seen And pictured on magazine covers With their blow-dried lovers.
Hair and ******* by Mattel They perpetrate their hell On all but their rich buddies And fool the fuddy-duddies With their rancid ballyhoo. Yes, they rob some rich too, But some never knew it; Rich, not smart, they blew it.
Every generation, this nation Sires a new batch of vermin And we have to determine If this is the new litter or a loner But instead the fools get a ***** Over some new crook or other That can afford jet planes to fly But claims he is a regular guy.
Once the country is a toilet They’ll keep trying to spoil it By boiling the bones of the dead And murdering us in our beds Because they don’t need us Except when they want to beat us. They can just pay each other. But the country won’t recover.