American Lie

by Rick Young | Nov 12, 2020 | Song

Bye, bye, this American lie.
Drove him down to KFC
because he wanted a thigh.
His good old boys
are keeping their powder dry.
This transition we could see people die.
This transition we could see people die.

Well, for four years he’s been overblown.
Now he’s drifted to a danger zone.
We could see tanks on the White House lawn.
He’s not nimble. He’s not quick.
But he holds the nuclear joy stick.
And any aides who’d stop him are now gone.

Yes, he’s got Bull Barr, vile Lindsey Gee,
and, of course Mitch Moscow, KGB.
They’ll play their cheating hands out to the end.
And though the Biden votes were real,
they’ll claim the count was a raw deal,
and turn to the Supreme Court, their last friend.

But it’s been ten days on the fence,
and, despite threats of violence,
the nation still will hold,
despite the lies turned gold.
Ignoring his loud hue and cry,
our democracy won’t die.
Already his great tantrum’s growing old.

When January makes us shiver,
he’ll have emptied his mad quiver.
Without his slings and arrows,
he’ll be moved out in wheelbarrows.
His whole team will be on the skids.
We’ll be finally rid of those damned kids.

And then we can sing,
Bye, bye, mister thumb-in-the-pie.
Hop your plane to Mar-a Lago
as we all wave goodbye.
Your whole four years
can be summed up as a lie.
In one more term we would probably die.
We will always see your shameful goodbye.

So, Joe be careful. Joe be slick.
Make us forget Trump, that prick.
Bring our good land back to grace.
Kamala will have your back.
Liz, Bern, Cory, your new pack.
Your mission, if accepted: saving face.

Nuclear Football Nerfs

by Rick Young | Oct 19, 2020 | Song

People get wise, this October surprise
is happening before our eyes.
Nothing you see is certain.
It’s a science fiction curtain.
It’s reality built out of schemes and lies.
Atlas, Barr the door, knock the speaker to the floor.
Call Proud boys on the phone. I’ll be in the vault, alone.
Do not dare open the door, unless you’ve snuck in a whore.
When I come out, the New Age will be Stone.

I Heard of a Herd

by Rick Young | Oct 13, 2020 | Song

I heard of a herd
that swallowed a word
that led them downhill
into a mass kill.
Their lives were o.k.,
but not so today.
Went down in defeat.
And now they’re just meat.
Dead dreams on American buns.
Bodies piling up by the tons.
It’s everything the master always craved,
endless tombstones with his name engraved.
I heard of a herd
who thought words absurd.
Who summoned the will
to march back uphill,
their lives to retrieve.
The master must leave.
The land will revive.
And love can survive.
New notes in our country’s songs,
promising to right our wrongs.
A healing world, a brighter sky.
We mourn the souls who had to die.

Death Fest

by Rick Young | Oct 11, 2020 | Song

We’re goin’ to a Covid party!
It’s happenin’ on the White House lawn.
The odds are five to one of getting sick while having fun.
In a few weeks, some of us are probably gone.
But it’s worth it to hear our glorious leader,
through his spray of aerosol germs in the air,
tell us it will disappear, although it’s very clear
whatever happens to us, he won’t really care.
Maybe we’ll get a tee shirt or a fancy campaign hat.
We can beat this China virus if we’re brave.
And, if we do get sick, at least we’re lookin’ slick
in our 2020 garments in the grave.
It’s the ultimate death mental rave.

Boys…

by Rick Young | Oct 1, 2020 | Song

Take Your Guns to Town.
Do not put them down.
March around the polls.
Hunt them down like trolls.
Wear your camo duds.
Drink suds with your buds.
Take Your Guns to Town.
M’ boys don’t mess around.
Must intimidate.
Voters who aren’t great.
Fuck authorities.
Scare minorities.
Wanna be a star?
Hit them with your car.
Take Your Guns to Town.
Make that freedom sound.
Every gat you heft.
Terrifies the left.
They want anarchy.
We will set them free.
Stand by for my signs.
At the battle lines.
We’ll have law and order.
Just like on the border.
Shout my name out loud.
You boys make me proud.
Please, take your guns to town.