Stented, He's Fixed

Stented, he's fixed; thrombosed, he leads the charade.
Having hundreds of ways to do sleight of hand.
He is followed by rows and rows of Bush père/Reagan bozos
The dregs of Ronnie's infamous band.

Stented, he's fixed; he must miss the morning sun.
In one of his ten coffins he's supine.
He's lived hundreds of years; he needs
Fresh blood, upon which he feeds. . .
Business whores of ev'ry shape and kind.

Now we're doing copper duty in Iraq—platoons
Thundering, blundering, getting shot each day.
Bellicose euphemisms; deficit zooms,
Zooms and zooms—while he gets big fat pay.

Mounted cannon protect his pacemaker's battery.
The chambers thundering louder than before.
Challengers who seek the prize
Must trump him—perhaps improvise
But somehow get a higher voting score!

(Repeat)

(The band exits to the sound of explosions.)