Here's to the State of Richard Nixon

Here’s to the state of Richard Nixon
Where underneath his borders
The Devil draws no lines
If you drag his muddy rivers
Nameless bodies you will find
And the fat trees of the forest
Have hid a thousand crimes
And the calendar is lying
When it reads the present time
Oh here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of
Richard Nixon: find yourself another country to be part of
And here’s to the schools of Richard Nixon
Where they’re teaching all the children
That they don’t have to care
All the rudiments of hatred
Are present everywhere
And every single classroom
Is a factory of despair
There’s nobody learning
Such a foreign word as «fair.»
And here’s to the laws of Richard Nixon
Where the wars are fought in secret
Pearl Harbor every day
He punishes with income tax
That he don’t have to pay
And he’s tapping his own brother
Just to hear what he would say
But corruption can be classic
In the Richard Nixon way
And here’s to the churches of Richard Nixon (and Billy Graham)
Where the cross once made of silver
Now is caked with rust
And the Sunday morning sermons
Pander to their lust
And the fallen face of Jesus
Is choking in the dust
And Heaven only knows
In which God they can trust
And here’s to the government of Richard Nixon
In the swamp of their bureaucracy
They’re always bogging down
And criminals are posing
As advisors to the crown
And they hope that no one sees the sights
And no one hears the sounds
And the speeches of the president
Are the ravings of a clown