In a little while from now, after I've had my whiskey sour
I promised myself to treat myself to launch a missle shower
and get that Iraqi lout, and knock him totally out
in an effort to make it clear to whoever
what's it's like when I'm angry.
'Cause here in the U.S.A., every day there's people saying,
"My God, that Bush, he's screwing up
he stole and now he's paying."
I need those suckers back, so who will I attack?
Saddam again, naturally.

To think that only yesterday, I was insulting blacks and gays
and women too, and liberals, phew! I was blowing them away.
But the towers got knocked down, and bin Laden came around,
and I had my chance to do a dance around a bad econ'my.
Leaving me so sure all about God and His poignancy.
Oh, if He really don't exist, why did He appoint me?
And in my hour of need, a target for my greed,
Saddam again, naturally.

It seems to me that there is more oil
churning in the world I haven't taken, no, I ain't fakin'
What do I do? What do I do?

Now looking back over the years,
And whatever else that appears.
I remember I was bummed when Clinton won
and I drank about a hundred beers.
And at sixty-eight years old,
My father, God rest his soul,
Couldn't understand why beating Saddam
didn't insure his re-election.
Leaving me to start, with a part that I'm now playing,
Despite bin Laden still alive, that's not why I am praying.
And I know he got away, so who is going to pay?
Saddam again, naturally.
Saddam again, naturally.