---- Lyrics to "I am Hillary Hear Me Roar"
I am Hillary, hear me roar
I'm more important than Al Gore
I could run this country if I had the chance
I've got an office down the hall
so Bill can't fool around at all
in this White House family, I wear the pants
Oh, yes, I'm his wife
But I'm in love with politics
Oh, yes, this is the life
I might run in ninety six
If I have to, I will say anything
I am strong (strong)
I'm un-divorceable (divorceable)
I am Hillary!
Oh, yes, this is the life
I might run in ninety six
If I have to, I will say anything
I am strong (strong)
I'm un-divorceable (divorceable)
I am Hillary!
Oh, what is a Deathocrat made of?
Of purple haze and militant gaze.
That's what a Deathocrat's made of.
Of sullen cynics, abortion clinics.
That's what a Deathocrat's made of.
Of pseudo-scholars and guilt trip wallowers,
hollow woe hollerers and hollower followers,
cowerers, glowerers, frivolous borrowers.
That's what a Deathocrat's made of.
Party of the strange and twisted.
Champion of each vice once hissed at.
Mockers of the tried and true.
Seekers who have not A CLU.
Where kinky notions find a home,
from whence the dinky dollar is thrown
to anywhere unjustified
from out the middle class's hide.
Pretenders pressing vague agendas,
they pose as philanthropic menders.
Pitting class and class and class,
these scions of the stubborn ass.
Kill a tree and risk their might!!
Abortion? ... Why, a woman's right!
Depict George Bush as mad aggressor,
Castro as some quaint professor.
Appeasing all tyrants who act with bold violence,
with wishfulness, wistfulness, blissful dead silence,
they cheat on their spouses and back revolutions
where Marx and machine guns are posed as solutions.
They run in circles, swim in fees,
fly from responsibility.
A criminal will earn their pity
while victims mount in every city.
"The poor", they say, "we help upgrade!"
but back in 1978
with Democrats as the ruling tenants
of White House, Congress, and the Senate,
gaslines grew, inflation soared!
The poor did better under Ford.
Jimmy and Fritz looked pale and wan.
"Who can we possibly blame this on?"
The people, that's who, as they did when they said,
"Things are bad ... they won't get better.
It's not our fault. Go wear a sweater."
They spent other folks' money to garner votes and praises,
leaving indexed taxing brackets that meant automatic raises,
that moved the poor and middle class,
their 'special friends', they said,
to brackets where scant years before
the rich and fat had laid.
And when Reagan said at last, "Indexing has to go!",
they said, "The old will soon be dead!"
and similar cries of woe.
They cursed and wurst and fairly burst with ugly histrionics.
Inflation fell. But what the hell, it can't be Reaganomics!
The man's success left them a mess when he said with rhetoric blistery,
"The dreaded reds will make their beds on the old ash heap of history!
"Abortion is lethal and communists evil!!"
Oh, how these rubes are uncouth!
What gay-bashing, chauvinist, war-monger bigots!
When will they ever see truth?
So what is a Deathocrat made of?
What IS a Deathocrat made of?
Of moral despoilers, and strident annoyers,
devious lawyers, and porno mag voyeurs,
of prayer interdiction and socialist fiction,
stupid decisions and history revisions.
Of shear abdication as sex education,
equivocation and scorn for our nation.
Of asinine fratricide.
Bully for OUR side!
That's what a Deathocrat's made of.
AMEN!
Edited by - thichi on 30 January 2003 19:36:0
