Spoken:
I slung bullshit alright in old Texas. I was sort of a clone
Of Robert Bork or Harrold Carswell.
Then I got the call from the dunce,
Also from Texas.

Why don't you go home, Creepy Gonzales,
From Pennsylvania Road*.
It appears that your thinkin'
Ain't goin' with the humane flow.
You're just a gnome who's kind of dopey.
In fact, you're quite off the wall.
Like your patron, you're a no-brainer,
So please stay out of Justice halls.

Creepy Gonzales, why dontcha go home?
Creepy Gonzales, why dontcha leave us all alone?

Spoken:
Hey, lotus-eaters, I'll run Justice in this town,
Like that other, the tort-beater you treated like a leper!

You're just a lapdog—Dubya's puppy.
You know, he used to snort coke.
Your chilling memos mention cellblocks
And say Geneva's a joke.
You hope the committee won't find dirt. . .
Tell Congress what they want to hear
Well if you're like the other messups,
I hope they kick you out of here.

Spoken:
Hey, lotus-eaters. I'll be a lot meaner
Once they green-light me through these hearings.