Adult Children

we live on styrofoam and plastic
and gasoline up to the gills
but when petroleum gets costly
we petition capitol hill

we join the union when we're eighteen
and sleep away half of the day
but with the Chinese exporting
we toss our hands up and complain

ichi-kichi-kichi-coo waa-waa
ichi-kichi-kichi-ca waa-waa
I wanna bottle and a diaper
don't wanna face up to the real world
boo-hoo

we're eating hamburgers and frosties
and jelly donuts, too
and if we get a little hefty
we're gonna lawyer up and sue

we get all sniffly and weepy
with post traumatic stress nerves
we call the therapist, pleading
to kiss the booboo where it hurts

ichi-kichi-kichi-coo waa-waa
ichi-kichi-kichi-ca waa-waa
I wanna pluggles and a lamby
singing the baby's blues boo-hoo

I'm going down, going down, going down, going down
into the repressed memories of my childhood
my daddy can't make me rake the leaves
I wanna play my nintendo!
I wanna juice box!
no no, daddy, no!

we are the latest generation
of happy indolent youth
we got a house, wife and children
but sucking binkies till we're blue

ichi-kichi-kichi-coo waa-waa
ichi-kichi-kichi-ca waa-waa
I wanna bottle and a blankie
don't wanna grow up like you

ichi-kichi-kichi-coo waa-waa
ichi-kichi-kichi-ca waa-waa
I wanna bottle and a diaper
don't wanna face up to the real world

Henry Kissinger

He was a goose-stepping son of a fräulein
Until he hooked up with the third reich
Then he switched sides and became a GI
The doughboy of intelligentsiae
Lobbing pineapples and diatribes on the state

He was the flowering of evil genius
The ends achieved would justify to deceive us
Picking fights with slanty-eyed GI Joes
Communistas set to be overthrown
Brass-balled real politico on the make

Henry Kissinger was the president's messenger
Throwing his weight down every avenue
Henry the riddler was a five star semaphore
Riding to war on his republican mule

When he reached the inner circle of secrets
He betrayed his masonic allegience
Sticking pins in hoover's voodoo dolls
All the chicks were terribly enthralled
With his super-sized mystical balls on display

Henry Kissinger was a tight rope walker
Threading the needle between lies and truth
Heinrich the riddler was a statecraft conjurer
Casting his spells all over me and you

He wasn't fearful at all
Necessarily brash
With an ego the size of a whale

Don't underestimate the sins of your leaders
Or you'll be singing songs of slavery later

Little Hitlers

We're in the capitals and in your town
And all we wanna do is boss you around
We're making regulations for your lawn
No tacky pink flamingos anymore

We're keeping faith in our democracy
Our heads are empty but we're really free
We get our wars and our welfare, too
By joing gangs and voting with the crew

Sieg heil!

Little Hitlers
They don't want to worry
Have a lobotomy

Little Hitlers
Can I be one?
Tell me, Oh great leader of D.C.

Little Sheeple
Sick people
Goosestepping around the maypole tree

Little Hitlers
Anyone can join
If they eat the soilent green

Salute the emporer called uncle sam
No need for thinking, he's the man with the plan
Give up your money and your children, too
To pay for lies in the government school

Little Hitlers
They don't have no worries
They got lobotomies

Little Hitlers
Can I have one?
Treat him like a stupid pet monkey

little Himmlers
In brown shirts
On cue we sing hail to the chief

Little Hitlers
Big stoners
Take another toke

Four score and many years ago
Our fathers brought forth an empire
Conceived in socialism
To spread the germ of democracy throughout the globe
So that all may enjoy the blessings of a
Planned economy and righteous thought control

We're on a mission, though its plain to see
That life with government is total sleaze
We live for jealousy and Schadenfreude
Its been a pleasure to know ya

Little Hitlers
They don't want to worry
Have a lobotomy

Little Hitlers
Can I be one?
Tell me, Oh great leader of D.C.

Little lepers
Goosesteppers
Prancing all around the maypole tree

Little Fuhrers
Dictators
Stamping out all good a decent creeds

Saint Martha

Saint Martha was heavy in every way
Cook a souffle
Some calls and some puts would round out her day

Saint Martha was bitter as vinaigrette
Powerful, yet
Without a love she still felt bereft

Then one day the desert it bloomed to sunday
He would shoot her a glance at her

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Rich Martha was smoother than Bob Goulet
Why did she stray?
Turning pastry tricks for an equity play

Dead set on her head on a platter flambe'
The inquisitors blamed her for

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Brave Martha would suffer to be alone
Took up her throne
Her chows by her side

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