(instrumental intro)

It's a choice we'll make on Vote Day;
Fury at this man, repressed.
You can bet this fight won't go away.
Bush has got a big war chest.

Bush ain't ready to be altered;
Lust for oil and greed, war crimes.
Bush the Moron's goin' to see his ending time.

Fell asleep while thinking, W.,
Mister Stolen Chair, unwise.
Arrogance we loathe about you;
We can see it in your lies.
Court-appointed, unresponsive,
But he's not too hard to find
For those with the means, his kin, or of his kind.

'Til we beat him, he'll just fiddle.
'Til we beat him; take his chair.
We just loathe him, 'cause he'll diddle.
Had enough, 'cause he don't care.
Bush has tried to fake it.
We don't mind sayin'
We just won't take it.

(instrumental break)

Fell asleep while thinking, W.,
Mister Stolen Chair, unwise.
Arrogance we loathe about you;
We can see it in your lies.
Court-appointed, unresponsive,
But he's not too hard to find,
For those with the means, his kin, or of his kind.

'Til we beat him, he'll just fiddle.
'Til we beat him; take his chair.
We just loathe him, 'cause he'll diddle.
Had enough, 'cause he don't care.
Bush has tried to fake it.
We don't mind sayin'
We just won't take it.

Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya...
Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya...
Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya...
Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya... Flop Dubya...
Lose in '04!