The truth is turning plastic
And politicians spastic
As they dream up fantastic
Ways to be bombastic.
The anti-intellectuals,
Their rhetoric effectual,
Demand a perpetual
And lucrative processional
To a place they know the score
Where they can amass more
Of money and stores
In disregarding the mores
They were elected for
And continue waging war
Like high-priced political ******.

The truth has no chance
In this genocidal dance
Of unfortunate circumstance
Created to enhance
Resultant happenstance
When, by the seat of his pants
When we happened to glance
Away for a particular moment
And were swamped by the foment
Of eight long years of torment;
Freedoms arteries turned to cement
And any chance of sanity
For American humanity
Got buried in some inanity
About hanging chads and counts
Giving a fool a chance to pounce;
To squeeze the last pure ounce
Of dignity out of the Presidency
By merely taking up residency.

We’re breathin’ hot air
Talkin’ ‘bout class warfare
But the poor they don’t care
'Cause politics don’t mean nothin’
When you’re needin’ somethin’
To end your despair

They ain’t readin’
Intellectual half-witted bleedin’
Who go home smilin’
It don’t take much thinkin’
For you to be realizin’
The lies ain’t worth chokin’

When you see the same beggin’
On the dyin’ corner
You get to wonderin’
Why do they keep pleadin’
If it ain’t good or is it just somethin’
They can’t stop repeatin’?

It’s a thinkin’ man who knows
That even with nice clothes
You can’t sleep all that well
‘Cause he sees the endin’
Of the ******* dreamin'
He’s been trying to sell

What you can say
Is you really don’t know why
Except maybe you should try
Maybe the poor man is better off
‘Cause he ain’t worryin’ ‘bout pride
Or recollectin' his last lie

They keep pollutin’
And we keep losin’
No matter how hard your workin’
It’s an insider’s creation
And a suckers frustration
‘Cause the chads got no salvation