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The Ballad of W, M.D. (Ducking Like a Quack)
We started killing folks because of the weapons of mass destruction, right? Wrong diagnosis, wrong treatment, very sick patient. Too bad this doctor's license to practice won't be revoked until 2009.
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Take charge
Charts position
» highest in charts: # 75 (21,145 songs currently listed in Comedy)
» highest in sub-genre: # 5 (1,064 songs currently listed in Comedy > Political Humor)
» highest in sub-genre: # 5 (1,064 songs currently listed in Comedy > Political Humor)
About the song
Let's fan the flames of fear to use the violence of the state in response to violence of the non-state. Result: lots of dead and injured folks, and the delightful prospect of lots of grudges waiting to be acted upon for the foreseeable future. No surprise: our leaders are a few steps behind on the learning curve.
Lyrics
Gather round children and listen to me,
for the chilling tale of Dr. W, M.D.
For hypochondria and psychosomatism,
he can cure those ills with no rhyme or rhythm
He conjured that the source of all wordly pain
was a big bad dude named Saddam Hussein
Now that cat, for being bad, needed no instruction
Or a warehouse full o’weapons of mass destruction
But Dr. W gave us all his diagnosis,
Kind of short on facts but tall on hoaxes
Cheney, Condoleezza, Rumsfeld and Powell
Joined in the chorus and began to howl:
“We gotta go to war, we just can’t wait
If Saddam survives we face an awful fate
Chemicals and germs and nucular too
If we don’t take him out he’ll set ‘em loose on you!”
No matter that inspectors couldn’t seem to find ‘em
UN resolutions? No need to mind ‘em
Iraq has never ever been Osama’s station
But that’s the place that Dr. W’s marked for amputation
So he rallies all the fools up on the hill:
“To keep democracy strong we simply have to kill,
And since we need a place to launch an attack
We might discover oil if we drill Iraq”
In Germany and Russia and even France
They’re thinking Dr. W’s got ants in his pants
Or some kind of rash to make his trigger finger itch
Or maybe that he’s just another son of a Bush
So we sent clever bombs and brave GIs
But those stockpiles never did materialize
Instead of calming down the masses to quiet our fears
Osama’s got himself a lot more volunteers
But Dr. W. don’t take no second opinions
He’s happy with the lies, and so are his minions
He’s just a cunning seller of misperception:
And he loves to use his weapons of mass deception
for the chilling tale of Dr. W, M.D.
For hypochondria and psychosomatism,
he can cure those ills with no rhyme or rhythm
He conjured that the source of all wordly pain
was a big bad dude named Saddam Hussein
Now that cat, for being bad, needed no instruction
Or a warehouse full o’weapons of mass destruction
But Dr. W gave us all his diagnosis,
Kind of short on facts but tall on hoaxes
Cheney, Condoleezza, Rumsfeld and Powell
Joined in the chorus and began to howl:
“We gotta go to war, we just can’t wait
If Saddam survives we face an awful fate
Chemicals and germs and nucular too
If we don’t take him out he’ll set ‘em loose on you!”
No matter that inspectors couldn’t seem to find ‘em
UN resolutions? No need to mind ‘em
Iraq has never ever been Osama’s station
But that’s the place that Dr. W’s marked for amputation
So he rallies all the fools up on the hill:
“To keep democracy strong we simply have to kill,
And since we need a place to launch an attack
We might discover oil if we drill Iraq”
In Germany and Russia and even France
They’re thinking Dr. W’s got ants in his pants
Or some kind of rash to make his trigger finger itch
Or maybe that he’s just another son of a Bush
So we sent clever bombs and brave GIs
But those stockpiles never did materialize
Instead of calming down the masses to quiet our fears
Osama’s got himself a lot more volunteers
But Dr. W. don’t take no second opinions
He’s happy with the lies, and so are his minions
He’s just a cunning seller of misperception:
And he loves to use his weapons of mass deception
