Ain't nothing like a real king, is he?
Ain't nothing like the real king.
Ain't nothing like the real king, is he?
Ain't nothing like the real king

Bush looks for "victory"... braggin' 'bout his war.
He can't see; so dumb is he; to him, war's a game.
Can't criticize him, 'cause a "victor" is not to blame.

Things are no bettter, and it's quite clear
Bush is using... power he's abusing; still spreading fear.
Cheney's voice whispering in his ear.

Ain't nothing like the real king, is he?
Ain't nothing like the real king

Bush plays his game, a fantasy.
He pretends... that he can shape reality.
He's seeking shelter; bubble of comfort, see?

The world's found who's to blame: Bush, his name.
The Putz must really be nuts to think things are better.
Has no brains, just feathers.

We've got bad memories to look back on.
We need much help; sack Bush's trhone.
We're well aware nothing can take the place of winning fair.

So mad and rotten; Bush King's crazy.
So mad and rotten, Bush King.
Ain't nothing like a real king, is he?
Ain't nothing like a real king.

(repeat last verse and fade)