It is nine and I’m bored, to death,
I’ve had my six-pack of cold froth;
For this day, I’ve bent my daily share of rules,
Pushed around these cops and bureaucratic fools,
Some for a fee and some for free
Who shiver at the mention of my great daddy.
Let me pick my gun and collect a few friends,
Get down to the bar at towns end,
In my Beamer or my SUVee,
Maybe knock down a few men -
Who'll miss a couple, in a billion and ten?
I’m God, freeing those poor bastards from hunger and pain
From their lives, so sorry and so in vain.
I’m God, no one dares to touch me,
Or he faces the wrath of my great daddy.
By the authority vested in my daddy and in me,
By the constitution of my great country,
Yes, I will just go have a ball,
Drink, be merry, may be shoot a Lal
And walk away scot-free,
Invoking the name of my dear-daddy,
In this fine land of freedom and liberty!!
(that’s just scripted right for me...)