When I was a little kid
My friends and I would play
At cowboys and Indians
In the barn with forts of hay.
We crafted guns from sticks
We found about the farm
And though we shot each other
We managed to come to no harm.

Bang, bang, bang! I got you!
No you didn’t, you missed!
The bullet whizzed by me!
You can’t see me in the mist!

Of course, if we were Indians
The same rules held true there.
You never managed to **** us
We never took your hair.
But, we knew we were villains
Because cowboys were king.
We didn’t even question it.
It was that sort of thing.

Bang, bang, bang. I got you!
Cowboys don’t ever cry.
We twist and dodge you redskins
So, don’t even bother to try.

Holding invisible reins, we rode
On our noble painted steeds.
We pretended it was the old West
Here in our playground of weeds.
Some of us had play weapons
Santa had brought to the lucky
But forcing improvisation only
Made us a lot more plucky.

Bang, bang, bang. I shot you.
You ***** lowdown rustler.
Oh, we thought of every dodge.
What young, clever hustlers.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

The other guys were different
And that made them negligent
And earned them the fate
Of a premature exit date.
They will always suffer defeat
That are not of the prime elite.
Killing such a strange enemy
Should garner no sympathy.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

The children are taught
From the first days of school.
We are the good guys
And that’s the important rule.
Bear that in mind, kiddies
Because it will always be true.
We are the champions here
No matter what we do.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

Children with sticks for guns
Learn to play their games.
They get shot, but don’t fall.
They know just who to blame.
You missed me, they call
Until the bullets are for real.
Then, they learn to question
What they were taught to feel.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

That’s what all war is for
To make sure none are alive
To fight the glorious holy war.
So none manage to survive.
With overwhelming enmity,
Some faced down opposition
By obliterating the enemy
And earned their commission

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

Listen friends and neighbors
As I do my best here to tell
Of some of the animals which
Reside in this jungle hell.
Some may look harmless
But can eat you all alive.
And many for no reason
Prefer you do not survive.

One is so horribly large
It can fall on you and end
Any chance you may have
To become its loyal friend.
It’s the smarmily gracious
Nearly total waste of *****,
Cringingly contumacious
Pusillanimous pachyderm.

It blunders around the jungle,
Often the danger is crushing.
It cares not for little folks, it
Only cares where it is rushing.
The other creatures around
Are annoyances in its way
And it really doesn’t care much
What they might have to say.

Of course, there are donkeys
Of many different classes
But try as each of them may
They always act like *****.
They bray but acquiesce
As long as they get their hay,
And do their absolute best to
Stay out of the pachyderm’s way.

And of course, the chameleons
Who cleverly change their look
So they can hide in plain sight.
No chances were ever took.
They hide among the foliage
And only come out to eat
And stay out from under the
All of the larger animal’s feet.

The pachyderms are herd animals.
They learned to stick together
So, few are clever enough to
Face them down in any weather.
But there are these little creatures
That use tricks and some tools
To take the occasional beast down
Though animals think them fools.

Then there are the tigers as well
And they must be well considered
Because like the pachyderms
They work very well together.
But they won’t often take on those
Huge beasts with the long trunks.
They are smart enough to choose
Their dinner in smaller chunks.

So, the lesson here is for you
To move carefully, don’t bungle.
It may look like a lush and green,
But for reals, it is just a jungle.
The beasts will make short work
Of humans whenever we weaken.
So, don’t walk blindly around.
Remember, it’s you or them!

I am really not passible
Just **** as possible
For a well-worn *****.
And, they call me Missy
Because I don’t think I can
Act like a masculine man
So spare me your hissy fit
Go someplace and get over it.

I can walk well in high heels
Don’t need any training wheels.
My taste in clothes is excellent
Not the slightest bit recalcitrant.
I’m fully into the new club scene
About half way to a drag queen.
One more piece of women’s wear
I’ll be ready to go about anywhere.

My movements are very delicate
And that is, of course, deliberate.
You get more if you advertise
And some assets I can’t disguise.
I’m six feet tall in my stocking feet
As spicy as Red Hots and twice as sweet.
If you don’t like your she-girls tall
Then you don’t know what’s good at all.

You’ll find me in cabarets, everywhere.
We’ll be up at the bar or in a chair
Showing off our legs and swinging
Lip-synching the words the juke is singing.
We’ll appreciate a drink, if you are buying,
We’ll make your day complete without trying.
We’re full of fun and know lots of jokes.
We’re a short vacation for the right blokes.

You don’t get to decide
Who gets their freedom.
You don’t get to deride
Because they have wisdom.
You don’t get to rebuke
To call them ugly names.
You don’t get to choose
Who plays in reindeer games.

You don’t get to choose
Who headlines in the news.
Go on and get dejected
At who ends up elected.
***** because the black guy
Won and now you all cry
Because it is not what the ****
Is looking for in a leading man.

You don’t get to make a claim
To be the one with a good name
To be the golden boy of all time
When every word you say is a crime.
You need to listen to your own lies.
They go to prove you are not wise.
Hypocrite fake and prevaricator;
Your behavior is the indicator.

Your hatred is a thousand years old,
And are not worth even fool’s gold.
They’re just a bunch of justifications
For selfishness and discrimination.
You make fun of all us pacifists
All the while you are just a fascist.
You’re nothing less than bigotry’s *****!
The world will rejoice when you are no more.

I’m wondering and worrying
Am I blundering or wallowing
Do I swallow all my fears
And forget about the years
That came before today
And hope they go away
And never bother me again?
When does that start, when?

Grumbling and mumbling
Stumbling and bumbling
I learn to stifle my tears
And through catatonic years
I forgot how to play
And locked myself away
From the fellowship of friends.
I hope to survive until it ends.

Itching and *******, I switch
To calling people a sunsabitch
Because they don’t guess
Why I’m a big freaking mess
And help me to recover
Maybe come be my lover
Because I don’t know how.
Let that part start right now.

Smoking and toking every day
Won’t make the blues go away.
Huffing and binge drinking
Means I’m not really thinking
And too often these days
That is what I have prayed;
To be blissfully unaware
That I am going nowhere.

His owner didn't quite know why
Maybe asthma or an allergy,
Maybe it was a cough or even a sigh.
He was a cat and that was no mystery.
He looked like a normal pet,
Colored just like a giraffe,
But, often at the strangest times
He made a sound just like a laugh.

One day a salesman came to call.
Bliggle's owner was a widow.
And sitting with Bliggle by her side
They watched him through the window.
The salesman knocked, she let him in,
He looked at her and Bliggle.
He told her all about his wares.
And the cat began to giggle.

The man went red and sweaty faced
And waved his hands and told her
She must buy his 'Whizzyclink'!
He would stay there until he sold her.
The widow said she didn't care
If the thing cost a buck and a half.
She wouldn’t buy the kind of gizmo
That could make a kitty cat laugh.

The salesman fumed and shouted then
So she opened up the door.
The salesman went all afluster,
Then he stomped across the floor.
The spoilsport then cursed at her
And called her 'an old bat',
And in his rage and fury
He tripped over Bliggle the cat.

Not hurt at all, the cat just sat
And stared at him awhile.
The salesman gathered up his goods
And Bliggle slowly smiled.
The salesman soon gave up his trade,
He could not live down the rumor,
That he lost his art to pitch a sale
To a cat with a sense of humor.

Bellicose beer-belled bad-*****
Bawdily belting down brewskies
Usually, boozily, bruisily beating
On weaker, sleeker funseekers
In the bar where they are, far
From anything like maturity
Hip hip hooray for unhip USA.

Ballyhooing big screen viewing
Myopic eyes watch others exercise
Freedom-hating grouch on a couch
Itching, *******; psoriasis and sloth
Unread armchair Brother of the Cloth.
One of the minions of opinions,
Hardened against morality, reality.
Saying it every day: USA, USA, USA!

Hating, bating, aggravating, skating
Right past solutions, conclusions
Preferring propaganda, ***** Miranda,
Stop mollycoddling, bottling up anger
Christ in the manger should be law
But they guffaw at reading The Book;
They took their religion from TV.
Freedom for me, not thee, in my USA.

Got mine, ***** yours, rights immune;
That tune don’t play here. No queers
No browns, yellows, Hindus or Jews.
I’ve got news you can use, I abuse
And oppress guys in a dress, yes!
Even if he’s white, it still ain’t right.
The Constitution is old, it just teases.
Mine is Republican Jesus for the USA.

A pigeon for old time religion and God
Everyone else is odd. I saw the movie.
It was groovy and pretty. Went to the city
Saw it in Imax, no blacks in the theater
Thanks to The Creator that gave us all
The intelligence to call things right.
Hip hip hooray for being lily white.
Hip hip hooray for the KKK USA.

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

Sometimes what we think is luck
It isn’t that at all
It’s a series of bad decisions
That lead us to a fall.
You never seem to grow
Out of this kind of crap.
And smiling while you cheat
Is another kind of trap.

I don’t want to play
Take yourself away
Don’t come back here
Any other day.

You seem to believe
That finding the right words
Means your lies disappear
Like they were never heard.
You never get embarrassed
At the ugly things you do.
But it turns our stomachs
And embarrasses us too.

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

It’s almost like a game
You used to play as a kid
Where all of us were meant
To ignore the things you did.
This is not a playground
And we are not in school.
Once it might have been cute
But now you’re just a fool.

I don’t want to play
No matter what you say,
Today or any day.
Find somebody less aware.
I don’t want to play.

Wishywashington
D.C., you see, consistently.
They flip and they flop
And they never seem to stop
Unless we are talking about blacks
Then they never take anything back.
They want our wonderful free nation
To turn back into a great big plantation
Where the only people who have rights
Are the wealthiest of all of the whites.

And nobody of any other color
Could ever be called a brother
Or treated with equality
Because the word free
Doesn’t belong to you or to me.
It belongs to the richest minority
Who still believe in the divine right
And translate that into might
And are prepared to fight
To keep those down
Who ***** around
With their profits.

They just won’t have it.
There will be hell to pay
And they mean to say, every day
As long as they have anything to say
About who gets the shaft and who gets the pay.
So, don’t go getting any ideas or plans.
Everybody needs to understand
This it’s a man’s world
And it is not for girls
Or people that don’t look like us,
Or those who don’t believe like us.
So, let’s not have some big fuss.
Just do what we say
And everything will be okay.