Poor GW Poor GW has some lousy Houston schools Poor GW has some lousy Houston schools Poor GW went and took us for a fool He needs morticians he don’t need a work program he needs morticians he don’t need a work program he’s got some dropouts better face up to it man The crime is higher it’s climbing higher everyday the crime is higher it’s climbing higher everyday with no respect there for the ones that have to pay The bag he’s in, in front of my seat on this airline the bag he’s in, in front of my seat on this airline I need connections I need to blow this town in time Poor GW has some lousy Houston schools Poor GW has some lousy Houston schools Poor GW went and broke the golden rule Walk With Them We should go walk with them We should go talk with them We should make it up with them Now is the time to get it right A perfect example of give and take A lovely walk in a Sunday park We'll bury each ones their mistake I fear a burning wind has taken hold of our place and it seems We’ll walk alone you and I So we'll hide behind the trees We’ll gather up the snakes The windows open son If you’ve done too much take a break We should go walk with them We should go talk with them We should make it up with them Now is the time to get it right Duck Hunting There’s a queer little fellow And he’s got the gift for talk He’s my little buddy now And I take him out for walks There’s no more ducks down here That we can shoot and kill and cuss The only ones inside of cages We’re gonna let them out then we'll blow their guts out I’m feeling rather steady For a man that’s on the clock The damn liberal left wing Never saw it coming when I punched their lights out Nothing is that damn important That we can’t work this whole thing out T part of me misses Wyoming In Wyoming you can kick it out of these commie punks In Wyoming you can kick it out of these commie punks in Wyoming you can kick it out of these commie punks Senator Byrd Speech Under the shade of a cottonwood tree In the vicinity of Yankton Sat a young girl with a magazine on her knees The poems that she memorized remind me of a speech I heard just the other day Robert Byrd put off that trip to heaven Stay with us here on the earth Tell us where it is that we came from And how we can rid ourselves of this curse He said he came from West Virginia He had seen a lot in his day Just to make sure people would understand him He rubbed the constitution in their face Senator Byrd put off that trip to heaven Stay with us here on the earth Tell us where it is that we came from And how we can rid ourselves of this curse Where Is My Baby Boy Where is my baby boy Where is my baby boy The sky is gray the sky is gray Who am I to show him such things Gone to the war Gone to the war The sky is gray the sky is gray My baby boy My baby boy Gone to the war Gone to the war George Bush Industriale Your folks killed my folks Let me take you back 27 years Your folks were in the petrochemical business and PVC did my old man in Just to kick a dead horse when he’s down your FBI did the dirty work then I call you every name in the book But woman and children are here George Bush la buttana industriale George Bush la buttana industriale George Bush la buttana industriale Please go back to Texas You can have the whole state for yourself you and your little shop of horrors my mother found a gun not a man my sisters they cried and they moaned go back to Texas you piece of snot I call you every name in the book But woman and children are here George Bush la buttana industriale George Bush la buttana industriale George Bush la buttana industriale Saw Song I can’t look at the sky There people fall from the sky In a place called Palestine I’ll just look at the ground There on the ground below It’s all broken and chained Just about the time I’m feeling good High beams in my eyes I’ll keep walking home I can’t look at the sun It’s burning holes in my clothes It’s all broken and chained Portrait Of A Sick America I’m going to punch George Bush The women will sing praises over his beaten body I’m going to stuff the sermon on the mount down his throat The women will sing praises over his beaten body I’m calling Georgie out for a fight Do the folks from Yale think they can Lord it over us anymore When the Pope has more than 40 divisions in heaven I’m going to grind his nose in the beatitudes He forgot about me but I’ve been waiting here to fight you The women will sing praises over his beaten body End Of The Highway Rumsfeld That’s the end of the highway Rumsfeld You won’t be getting any more political appointments Please nod off like the old generals do I wonder if they’d even have you That’s the end of the highway Rumsfeld I live down in a flood zone where the road breaks apart Get yourself a mansion high up on a hill That way we can keep our eyes on you That’s the end of the highway Rumsfeld You’re a sorry silly man with a pocketful of mumbles How many tanks were there to meet Stalin I wonder if they’d even have you That’s the end of the highway Rumsfeld You’re getting kind of tense You must not need much sleep Please nod off like the old generals do I wonder if they’d even have you All songs Mark Olson, Sunny Vista Music (BMI) administered Bug Music Except traditional music and arrangement by Victoria Williams