Here I sit by my receiver
Spitting blood up from my throat:
I'm a very true believer
That I have the right to vote.
When I watched the couple rhumba
Watched the tango in a fury
I sat here and phoned the number
Hoping to be judge and jury.
Who is he, the statistician
Thinking we're a bunch of fools?
Who gave anyone permission
To step in and bend the rules?
I thought I had used my ballot
I thought that the die was cast:
Bad taste in my craw and palate –
Still he jigged there, to the last.
In the world he'd driven wild
With his snake-hips fro and to,
There stood Bush, and smiled and smiled.
Something snapped. I threw my shoe.
In his sequins and his spangles
Still he stumbled on the floor.
By the language that he mangles,
Someone show the man THE DOOR.