There's a swine named Rush. . .fantasy world is/ain't right,
Fantasy world's wrong, but it's also right.
"Oxy'-moron"'s not
A figure of speech.

Glug-drugs stooge won't hush, a gnome body but with height.
Bloated troll ain't svelte, but he's feelin' good--he's holdin' "pearls" white.

Stoned Limbaugh's on a carefree scream;
Faux words drown out verity; it's a dream
Birthed in balm-bathed bean.
The false-fact fount that you will hear,
Keened on opiates not beer.
Is it the truth, ever? No, never.

His bromides are mush. . .mouth gush; no bromide for Rush,
Though he gets the shakes when his system clears. . .slugs down other drugs.

"Blah-blah-blah. . . ."

Stoned Limbaugh's on a careless screed,
Shakin', apin' Mike? Naw, needs
His pills feed. He chronically pleads
To docs, shoppin' for one who'll hear
His screeching and say, "OK, here's
What you love." Are the Feds stirred? Never.

There's a swine named Rush; he likes his pearls strong and white.
All over the world, addicts like Rush do time in the jug,
Yeah, but the law just shrugs
At untamed lust for drugs.
Hush.