{1_01} WE'VE ALL HEARD how George Dubya screwed Ms. Lynch,

{1_02} but let's not dwell on his proclivities.

{1_03} No, rather on THE PEOPLE whose votes winch

{1_04} his screwing mechanism through the trees ...

 
{1_05} ... of sanity and law and Jesus' love

{1_06} that have been planted on the mountain side

{1_07} by God almighty: nests for freedom's dove --

{1_08} and, yes, as obstacles to Dubya's PRIDE ...

 
{1_09} ... flamed high by Satan, who wants tree-less earth

{1_10} so landslides of his BULLSHIT will flow down.

{1_11} SO SAD the U.S. SOUTH -- place of my birth --

{1_12} must be the dumb-ass region that would crown ...

 
{1_13} ... all leaders that the Antichrist would pick.

{1_14} Sweet yellow dogs turned green. What made them sick?

{2_01} WHEN DID THE SOUTH bend over to receive

{2_02} the seed of Satan ... for the second time?

{2_03} THE CIVIL WAR STUPIDITY we grieve

{2_04} or celebrate in costume as some mime ...

 
{2_05} ... moronic re-enactments of insane

{2_06} mass slaughter by gun-toting Southern boys

{2_07} and yankee youth. In open fields were slain --

{2_08} without a tree a rifle ball destroys ....

 
{2_09} ... a patch of flesh and bone. Infirmaries

{2_10} of sawbones, bloody stumps, and morphined screams --

{2_11} to live or die more likely from disease

{2_12} than violence and story that redeems ...

 
{2_13} ... the word called "war." When Jessica awakes,

{2_14} she says, you know, you've made a few mistakes.

{3_01} A REBEL BATTLE FLAG says PRIDE remains

{3_02} for warriors on the side who gave their lives

{3_03} defending their held truths and its domains

{3_04} no matter if the devil's chauffeur drives ...

 
{3_05} ... the fun'ral preacher's limo to the grave

{3_06} where we pay our respects no matter how

{3_07} much BULLSHIT was the reasons some men gave

{3_08} to justify the slaughter. Heads we bow ...

 
{3_09} ... for lives lost absolutely/stupidly.

{3_10} We honor sacrificing for our tribe.

{3_11} We honor those who died for LOYALTY

{3_12} to "our own kind." And if the Southern vibe...

 
{3_13} ... contained a minor nigger-hating chord,

{3_14} So be it. Cross our hearts and praise the Lord.

{4_01} Yes, JFK and LBJ were warned --

{4_02} the price of civil rights was SOUTHERN VOTES.

{4_03} DOWN SOUTH the Democrats -- once loved, now scorned

{4_04} for plucking true, instead of BULLSHIT notes.

 
{4_05} The Southern boys were 'fraid the Blacks would rise

{4_06} and take their jobs and girlfriends. So they freaked:

{4_07} Put rifles in their pickups to disguise

{4_08} their fear -- afraid somebody may have peeked ...

 
{4_09} ...in highschool gym and saw their proud white dicks

{4_10} so tiny in comparison to blacks.

{4_11} Each grabs a Rebel Battle flag and sticks

{4_12} it in their window, 'bove their rifle racks.

 
{4_13} Poor Howard Dean stepped in this dick-head war --

{4_14} still clueless what a rebel flag stands for?

{5_01} REMEMBER, FOLKS, that I'm from Tennessee,

{5_02} so I can talk like this -- I get to "joke"

{5_03} about the size of dicks that you might see

{5_04} down South. A Southern White can take a poke ...

 
{5_05} ... at rebel flags and STUPID Southern tacks --

{5_06} LIKE breaking up the nation to preserve

{5_07} the right to keep sweet freedom from all blacks.

{5_08} STILL FLY A REBEL FLAG? Hell, you've got nerve!

 
{5_09} Yes, God-damned nerve -- the prideful BULLSHIT kind

{5_10} that Satan loves. The kind he can exploit

{5_11} by simply having minions speak your mind.

{5_12} Satanic BULLSHIT-speakers so adroit ...

 
{5_13} ... at echoing the things you want to hear

{5_14} and comforting your God-forsaken fear.

{6_01} George Dubya's first job in his father's race

{6_02} was "LOYALTY ENFORCER" -- guarantor

{6_03} that loyalty not truth would set the pace

{6_04} for daddy's team. (Same game when Dub beat Gore.)

 
{6_05} Yes, BULLSHIT is the core Bush strategy

{6_06} "whatever words it takes" that 's what he'll say.

{6_07} They won't be lies 'cause he will come to see

{6_08} their truth -- 'cause what Bush wants must be God's way.

 
{6_09} THE DEVIL SMILES, he loves this line of thought.

{6_10} Yes PRIDE and BULLSHIT make the perfect pair

{6_11} of soul-destroying chemicals. Who taught

{6_12} George Dubya this concoction? Her white hair ...

 
{6_13} ... is grandma camouflage, but don't be fooled.

{6_14} In PRIDE & BULLSHIT Dubya was home-schooled.

{7_01} Yeah, "e tu tambien!" -- your mama, too!

{7_02} Perhaps she's Satan's minion if she'd send

{7_03} you off to do what Dubya Bush says do.

{7_04} You should be worried if my words offend ...

 
{7_05} ... you much, my friend, because that is a sign

{7_06} you have been eating BULLSHIT and can't tell

{7_07} that beer you're drinking's really turpentine

{7_08} from Satan's table, pumped right out of hell ...

 
{7_09} ... and spit out Bush's mouth ... to doom your soul.

{7_10} Your LOYAL SOUTHERN SOUL belongs to God.

{7_11} Yes, loyalty to Him should be your goal,

{7_12} not loyalty to southern clumps of sod.

 
{7_13} The wage of BULLSHIT is a pile of crap.

{7_14} Ask "what would Jesus do," and screw the map.

{8_01} DEAR PRESS CORPS: If you labeled BULLSHIT right,

{8_02} I'd leave small penis'd Southern men alone.

{8_03} Lord knows some can't find jobs, and must go fight

{8_04} George Dubya's demons' battles that I moan ...

 
{8_05} ... in Shakespeare's fav'rite form ... to free my tongue

{8_06} from all constraints -- except his sonnet's rules.

{8_07} I use this license: sing what must be sung

{8_08} to counteract THE FRAMES we learned in schools ...

 
{8_09} ... in Dallas or Madrassas ... that make sheep

{8_10} of all of humankind ... so evil wins.

{8_11} Osama's evil -- and George Dubya's peep.

{8_12} Their followers eat BULLSHIT: Satan's spins ...

 
{8_13} ... of worldly tit-for-tat, not Heaven's grace.

{8_14} For newsfolk who respread it... hell's your place.

{9_01} IN PARIS she is still off on her own

{9_02} accomplishing what femmes in Paris do

{9_03} when lovers are distracted, and their phone

{9_04} has been misplaced. Whatever they pursue ...

 
{9_05} .. is off my radar, 'cause I'm not a girl

{9_06} and know not how they think -- though I pretend

{9_07} to stick words in their mouths: a guy-like pearl

{9_08} in thongy shell that guys wish girls would send ...

 
{9_09} ... them in their lone-male moments to enlarge

{9_10} their spirit to the size of humankind.

{9_11} "Such bullshit," she would say, since I'm in charge

{9_12} of saying what my femme has on her mind.

 
{9_13} I am the writer. I choose when she's gone.

{9_14} So why do I feel lonely here at dawn?