(instrumental intro)

Our dictator... hey, let's give help towards his downfall.
His polls numbers are disastrous, and his star's fading.
Stop drinking his Kool-Aid.
Our Constitution's been unmade.
He lied, 'cause Bush knew too well, that he'd be hated.

Isn't that the way Bush fascism goes?
We're ruled by old fat cats.
His worshippers dumb, and they've all been blinded;
Bush fu**ed up all, but to them, he's just fine; Bush has shown,,,
Katrina was the blow, for which he's taking hell.
Since then, his words of spin only convince himself.
Does Bush know what is real?
Real's what the Decider feels.

(instrumental break)

Our dictator... hey, let's give help towards his downfall.
Awakened from their slumber, more people hate him.
Our dumb king wants his prize:
Conquer Iraq while there's still time;
A winning war for Shrub's still not gonna save him.

Isn't that the way Bush fascism goes?
We're ruled by old fat cats.
His worshippers dumb, and they've all been blinded;
Bush fu**ed up all, but to them, he's just fine; Bush has shown,,,
Katrina was the blow, for which he's taking hell.
Since then, his words of spin only convince himself.
Does Bush know what is real?
Real's what the Decider feels.

No, no, no, no...
Real's what Decider feels.

Our dictator... should be impeached or else recalled.
There's no left that Bush is willing to talk to.
Thanks to him, war crime...
Has now flourished; our nation's slimed.
He should be serving time.

Isn't that the way Bush fascism goes?
We're ruled by old fat cats.
His worshippers dumb, and they've all been blinded;
Bush fu**ed up all, but to them, he's just fine; Bush has shown,,,
Katrina was the blow, for which he's taking hell.
Since then, his words of spin only convince himself.
Does Bush know what is real?
Real's what the Decider feels.

(instrumental ending)