| He was elected
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| Wingnut raised and corn fed
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| Teabags dragging on the chamber floor
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| He did what he had to do
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| To get southern boys to vote for you
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| To grease the wheels to get you in the door
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| But he must have said some things
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| That made them think that he was strange
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| And made them wonder if he was one of them
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| Called him in and questioned him
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| But he wouldn’t make amends
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| So they had to reel the poor boy in
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| He was an absolute
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| Piece of shit to tell the truth
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| But he never told the truth to me
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| He never told the truth to you
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| Don’t think he ever set out to
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| He was indifferent to honesty
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| His positions were pre-ordained
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| To help conceal his vast disdain
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| For anything that lessened his appeal
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| His integrity was phoning in
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| Totally Nixonian
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| Honing in the art of making deals
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| He was a piece of work
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| More or less a total jerk
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| His own mama called him an S.O.B
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| He never worked an honest day
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| Just kissed up to a better way
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| To sell the cow that you could get for free
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| When he got out of line
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| They snatched him up from behind
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| And put him in a box with fancy trim
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| Rolled him out for all to see
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| His rendez-vous with destiny
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| Now someone else will play the part of him |