Pimpin' with the Prezident

It ain't so hard to be a pimp
Just ask George Bush, the wailin' wimp

He'll eat your hamburger today
Then Tuesday promise to repay

On Monday, though, he plans to skip
And leave your kids with bill and tip

He's pimped the troops out walkin' beats
In Baghdad's mean and lethal streets

While he stays safe at home in bed
A nightlight shinin' by his head

He flies into Iraq at night
Then splits before the mornin' light

He takes some promo picture groups
Him feedin' turkey to the troops

Another ersatz plastic bird:
A photo of a smilin' turd

In his big plane he flies around
While troops get hammered on the ground

He pimps out both the girls and boys
To bring in money for his joys

Too bad his need to be reborn
Too good the war bucks kiddie porn

The fanboy fascists jerkin' off
Would never think to bitch or scoff

It ain't their sisters takin' slap
It ain't their brothers catchin' clap

They loved that tale of Monica
Why do they hate America?

It ain't so hard to be a pimp
Just ask George Bush, the smirkin' chimp

He learned about the crime that pays
In voodoo Reaganomics days

With Laffer drawin' fancy curves
On napkins that the waitress serves

Old Ron and Dick and Don saw quick
That deficits would do the trick

Just rob the future; hide the stash
Then cover up by talkin' trash

The sacred military scam
Would kill the ghost of’Vietnam

"Let's coin an urban myth," they thought
"To unlearn all the lessons taught"

"We'll say they had it 'won' for naught,
We expert ones who never fought"

"Their deaths and maimings we can choose
To call a ‘syndrome’ -- we can't lose!"

"Americans are so damn thick
They think of wise as somethin' sick"

But, anyway, this pimpin' pays
You cannot even count the ways

This pimpin', George the Shrub thought fine
As long as he could jump the line

Let better men go off to die
He'd get ahead and learn to fly

He got his picture took in planes
Then disappeared to make some gains

But now, though, he gets custom threads
And public funding for his meds

"It troubles me," he sometimes blurts
When he gets wind of how war hurts

"It must be like that 'poverty'
That mom made sure I'd never see"

Like most stud hampsters, don't you know?
He swaggers like they're hangin' low

With Haliburton writin' checks
Dick don't care how much world George wrecks

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2006