It ain't funny, you see
What did you think
When you heard George Bush on the radio?
Where would he be today,
if it wasn't for his big shot daddy-o?

Remember how you heard him on the radio
When he said, "Please vote for me"
And how he got mobbed and he expressed shock
To prove he was drug free
For the stupid things he did, he will get mocked
And he just may run aground
Can he calm fears, can he let us know?
Or will scandals drag him down?

Chorus:
That's why his handlers all pray:
"Please, Dubya, don't O.D.
You'll need all your wits with you,
Wherever you may be"
The right wing's only choice
Preferred, but not quite clean
He is nearly fifty-five,
But still acts fifteen

The drinking he did, acting like a pig
The things he said, low blows
They said that Bush the Younger sounds
Like a lightweight, though
He still got elected the Governor of Texas,
And all the right wing talk shows
Are all perked to say he'll run again
For the White House, but we know
His monkey business shows

Chorus:
That's why his handlers all pray:
"Please, Dubya, don't O.D.
You'll need all your wits with you,
Wherever you may be"
The right wing's only choice
Preferred, but not quite clean
He is nearly fifty-five
But still acts fifteen

He made millions of his money
Speculating with stock ops
Questioned by the S.E.C.
And we heard him squawking just like little children:
"What those Web sites are saying 'bout me!"
He holds a shot that he cups in his hand
And he prays for better news today
He is tired of this rut that he's sitting in
But the questioning won't go away

Rich kids and their crazy dreams
Should only go so far
But Bush can travel where big money goes
And make himself a star
When he's drinking,
His behavior can be shocking
If he's evening a score
Eventually, he'll settle down,
But still comes back for more

Got his money for free
He thinks he's better than me
He wants to lead this mighty land
Don't be in a hurry to vote for such a man

Dubya, don't O.D.
Dubya, don't O.D.
Dubya, don't O.D.
Dubya, don't O.D.

Chorus:
That's why his handlers all pray:
"Please, Dubya, don't O.D.
You'll need all your wits with you
Wherever you may be"
The right wing's only choice
Preferred, but not quite clean
He is nearly fifty-five
But still acts fifteen

That's why his handlers all pray:
"Please, Dubya, don't O.D."
Dubya, don't O.D.
Dubya, don't O.D.

(fade)