Don't Let the Door Hit Your Ass

Don't Let the Door Hit Your Ass,

An Ode.

Dear Prez'nit Bush, the time has come
To kiss your term goodbye.
Our eyes are dry, you brain-dead bum;
For you no one will cry.

Make sure you pack up all your stuff
Don't leave a god-damn trace,
Take your useless, lazy duff
And take your smirking face.

Be sure and take your Torture Corps
Illegal, vile, unclean,
Take all those portraits you adore -
You know the ones I mean.

Your gang of cronies, so inept
At everything but thieving
And hiding all the loot they've schlepped,
Take them, or not. They're leaving.

Take your banner, too, that squawked
"Accomplished" is our "Mission."
Take every neocon chickenhawk
With you straight to perdition.

Take Saddam's widdle pistol gun,
And when you've had a few
Shoot out the chandelier for fun
Then puke on Laura's shoe.

I'd ask you to take Cheney, too -
Please take him anyplace.
But I think you know what he'd do
He'd shoot you in the face.

Take this, take that. It's all you know,
And let the wreckage lay.
Please no more talking, George, just GO
Leave early. It's okay.

~ Oliver Wendell Halliburton