Greasy Polls
I drank the bar dry, and then, clammily,
I lusted deep down in my soul.
Am I spending more time with my family?
No chance. I am up in the poll.
I lied upon oath, upon altar,
And lurched here and there on the floor.
Is my campaign beginning to falter?
Not a bit. I'm increasing my score.
My actions weren't slight or subliminal,
My intentions were those of a goat.
So am I thought cruel or criminal?
Not so. It has boosted my vote.
I was playing the lecher, not dating;
I was out on the pull, not the push.
Oh, it's great for your popular rating
When you're facing an ally of Bush.
