Are you watching celebrity fare
Martha, Blake, O.J. and sick Mike
Killers and cheaters, one likes kids bare
They once were some people we liked

Martha is selling her old prison shirts
(On the steps of her home reporters won't leave)
No jail shaves, thighs hairy with slime
(Now trims her bush with old garden shears)
Without K-Mart, she now needs work
(As O.J. cleans and polishes his knife)
Michael has a new love...he's nine
(Sleeps unaware of the monster in bed)

Robert, like O.J., says S.O.D.D.I.T's to blame
(He bellows crazy 'bout harlot wife's stallions)
I must say, grows weary and trite
(Funeral parlors have gravesites now filled)
They search the world over for guilty man
(They have sold out their soul, but don't think we've forgotten)
And Michael's found a new love...he's five

Michael he (bleeped) it with a sick young bed wetter
(As I watch from my couch as he perp walks to court)
O.J.'s rage, grows weary with time
(Lacking in sorrow, from golf course just frowns)
Here's wishing that his old glove had fit better
(Millions of dollars the lawyers are countin')
Then he'd be a cell mate of Mike

Are we treating celebrities fair
Martha, Blake, O.J. and sick Mike
Dismember them, for all that I care
They're no longer idols of mine