A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that Liberace used to smile.
And I would always get a lift over Montgomery Clift
and Rock Hudson was so cool for a while.
But Allen Ginsberg made me shiver
with every poem he'd deliver.
Gore Vidal, so grody, so was Truman Capote.
I can't remember if I cried when
Dick Chamberlain had no bride.
But something touched me deep inside
the day Miss Garland died.

So, queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

Did you write a disco song
and do you wear a lacy little thong
if the RuPaul told you?
And do you believe in ancient Greeks
who still were macho, butch but geeks
and can you teach me how to dance cheek-to-cheek?
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'cause you stared all through the class of gym.
You made fun of my shoes
but your loafers are a little loose.
I was a lonely teenage horny dog
with a pink carnation and a Honda hog
but I knew my mind was in a fog
the day Miss Garland died.

I starting singing, "Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

Now, for too long you were on your own
until the bar named for a wall of stone
was raided by the NYPD.
When the coppers swung clubs at the queens
in their leather jackets and tight blue jeans
then the boys fought back, and now they're free.
Oh, and while the queens were looking down
they made fun of the Oscar gowns.
The courtroom was adjourned.
They flamed so much they burned.
And while Mr. Blackwell left his mark
the police raided Central Park
and you sang show tunes in the dark
the day Miss Garland died.

You were singing, "Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

Loafers lighter, pants getting tighter
Bowie flew off with a Martian spider
eight miles high and swishing fast.
It landed in San Francisco.
We got dragged down to the hot disco
and the Castro was so fun but couldn't last.
Now, ol' Harvey got sent to the Board
and moralists went out of their gourd.
We all got up to dance
but this world's not a man's man's.
'Cause Moscone tried to level the field.
That twerp Dan White refused to yield.
Do you recall our fate was sealed
the day that Harvey died?

He was singing, "Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

Oh, and there we were, all in one place
a hospital's infectious space.
Discrimination starts again.
So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack makes fun of Will & Grace's shtick
'caus Will is gonna be Jack's only friend.
Oh, and while Melissa sang onstage
Buchanan tried to stir up rage.
No angel born in hell could stop Boston's Cardinal.
And as the flames cried high into the night
to protest beatings from the right
I saw Ashcroft laughing with delight
the day Ellen's show died.

She was singing, "Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

I met a girl in old Vermont
and I asked her what she'd really want
but she just smiled and turned away.
And I went down to the condom store
where I'd bought them in bulk years before
but the man there said, "Come on, Mike, you're not gay!"
And in the streets, the zealots screamed.
The networks' mucky-mucks got reamed.
But not a shot was fired
'cause Jesse Helms retired.
And the three men I would like to thank
Siegfried, Roy and Barney Frank
they'll laugh all the way to the bank
the day that Georgie cries.

And they'll be singing:
"Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real.
You make me feel so mighty real."

They'll be singing:
"Queer eye for the straight-living guy:
Drove my Chevy, it's too heavy, make my Volvo so fly.
And sweet ol' boys were drinking spritzers of teal
singing, "You make me feel so mighty real."