Parallel Universe . 2
Here in lovely Uzbeki-beki-stan-stan
We search for the perfect brain
And the most perfect one under an Uzbeki sun
Is the one on Herman Cain.
Though he refuses to know the name of our Prez
Nothing could be much clearer
Republicans gasp about everything he says
As he masturbates under a mirror.
There is nothing unclean in Uzbeki-beki-stan-stan
We have no crocodiles in our moat
And the only thing Trekky about dear Uzbeki
is our desire to be fucked by a goat.
So while we yield to the fist of this insistent lobbyist
and set our Peter Meter to SLOW
Wonder how long it takes when the takes off his brakes
And we scream, "Go, Herman! Go!"
As we're getting a tan in Uzbeki-beki-stan
We have focussed our Tan Man Scanner
While he's arranged his attack as a Jet Black Jack
Nobody could get much tanner.
Herman's coasted his Rolls to the top of the polls
He's invented all kinds of new tricks
Though he thinks it's fine to fix on NINE NINE NINE
We're all thinking: SIX SIX SIX.
No comments:
Post a Comment