Dear kindly, Mr. Bushie
You’ve got to understand
It is my bringing uppie
That gets me out of hand
My mother dated rabbis
My father is a schmeck
Holy Moses, that’s why I’m a wreck!
Dear President Bushie, I’m really upset
I’ve never got the love that ever Shiite should get
I am not dictator, I’m misunderstood
Deep down inside me there is good! (there is good!)
There is good, there is good, there is untapped good
Deep in side, the worst of me is good!
(That’s a mighty touching story)
(I’ll tell it to the world!)
(Just tell it to the Hague!)
Dear kindly, judge, your Honor,
My soldiers are no fun.
Hid the weapons of mass panic,
I’ve only got a gun.
Though unanimously chosen,
Approval can’t be had!
Golly Cripey, that’s why I’m so bad!
Right! President Bushie, you are such a square
This kid don’t need a judge, he needs an analyst’s care.
Hey, President Bushie, haven’t you heard?
He’s psychologically disturbed! (I’m disturbed!
I’m disturbed, I’m disturbed, I am most disturbed.
Yes, I’m psychologically disturbed.)
(Hear ye, hear ye! It is the opinion of this court that Saddam here is depraved on account he ain’t got a normal home.)
(Hey, I’m depraved on account I’m deprived!)
I gassed all of the Kurdies
Most people don’t have work
I rigged my own elections
Most think that I’m a jerk
I’ve guzzled all my aid funds
Our living standard’s less
It’s no wonder that I’m such a mess
You! President Bushie, you are such a slob
This boy don’t need a shrink he needs a good honest job
Out of his palace, to work with a kick
‘Cause he’s sociologically sick! (I am sick!
I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, sick, sick
Like I’m sociologically sick)
(In my opinion this boy don’t need his head shrunk at all. He has a sociological disease)
(Hey, I have a social disease!)
(So send him to a social worker!)
Dear Mrs. Social Worker, they say go get a job
Like working for Al Quaeda, or maybe run a mob
I am not antisocial, I’m only antiwork
Holy Moses, that’s why I’m a jerk
Eek! President Bushie, you’re too soft again!
This boy don’t need a job, he needs a year in the pen!
He is a delinquent, not misunderstood
Deep down inside him, he’s no good! (I’m no good!
I’m no good, I’m no good, I’m no earthly good
Deep inside, I’m totally no good)
The problem is he’s lazy
The problem is he drinks
The problem is he’s crazy
The problem is he stinks
The problem is he’s growing
The problem is he’s grown
Bushie, I’ve got problems of my own!
Dear President Bushie, I’m down on m’knees
No country wants a leader with a with social disease
Dear President Bushie, whate’er shall I do?
Someday, President Bush, I’ll…bomb you!