In D.C., five hundred thirty-five
Slimeballs spew mindless jive—
The country cannot thrive with this kind.

In the House, four hundred thirty-five,
Ain’t one of these freaks tells the truth. . .
Just tell lies.

In this town is a mindless fray
Of aholes with nothing to say
That isn’t more that pander jive,
And nobody needs these creeps, except the guys
Who tell them just what to do—
And that isn’t me or you,
But it’s the ones who are gonna thrive
Because their serfs write laws for these guys,
While the rest of us are screwed. . .
A “Let them eat cake” attitude.

Every year, some more dickheads arrive
To join in the corruption down there that’s rife.

There isn’t one
Who joins with this crew
Who will not soon become rotten,
Corrupted by a system of gains ill-gotten.

If things are to continue on this way,
We’re gonna face a judgment day—
But not by some god; an end
That’s brought about by women and men,
Especially those in D.C., who knees bend
And their tongues thrust up the rear end
Of their clear masters for whom they strive
To make sure that when the shit hits the fan, they’ll survive.
They lick the sphincters of their overlord friends.
Leave the rest of us nothing.

For these clowns, nothing but jeers
Do I have; and so now here’s
Another that I’ll do; I’ll never be through
Until these pests and blight have vanished in the night
And all gone far away. . .as if we’ll ever see that day!

In D.C., five hundred thirty-five
Vile pols spew shite-full jive.
It is clear that all they spiel is jive. . . .