The Bulls**t They Sling

Oil river in the dark, Cheney's drilling in the park but meantime
Down by the ranchland, I stop and I smell everything.
A family's whistling "Dixie" on a fault line
They feel all right when they hear their echoes ring.

You know he's nuts cause you don't hear too many experts
Willing to explain why our tax should go down.
Poor Colin Powell's in Mid-East places
Keeps his ass there low to the ground.
Way on down south, way on down south...Palestine

See Junior George, he shines all the swords
But he's wont to use them, he doesn't want to wield one in the ring.
'Cause a bent scimitar is all he can procure,
When he walks up under the lights to measure his thing.

And Daddy doesn't mind if he doesn't make that scene
He's got a daytime job, and he's golfing at night.
He can play the honky WASP like anyone,
Savin' his one-wood for Condoleeza Rice
He loves the bulls**t, he loves the bulls**t they sling

Rumsfelds boys standing there in the corner
Dressed in their dog taggies and their steel-tipped soles.
They don't give a damn for any olive branch in hand,
It ain't what they call "lock and load."

Then ole Jeb, he steps right up to the microphone,
He says at last to jam the feeding tube in
Good night, now it's time to go home
As he gives the finger to the next of kin.
"We love the bulls**t, we love the bulls**t we sling."