Insulated from thousands of protestors who despise his policies wherever he goes in the world, Bush lives in a security bubble created by his handlers and the sycophantic American lapdog press.

Bush Lives In A Bubble
(Sung to the tune of "Message In A Bottle" by The Police)

Click HERE for MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Critics blast away at his hypocrisy,
But Bush won't hear; just see more looniness
Than any man would dare.
Mess you see: his war, will fall into despair.

Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
Bush lives in a bubble.

Bush fears his past will just lose him votes,
But he should have known this;
Fights he did start.
Looney dope can't keep it together.
Shrub has ended life,
And Shrub's mistakes aren't smart.

Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
Bush lives in a bubble.

Iraq's now warring; won't believe what he saw.
And now a million troubles f**k up his oil war.
Dreams to keep his throne, which is not his own.
Critics (a billion) blast away:
"Crook-king, just go home!"

Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world,
Defending his B.S. to the world.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
This dope, the Dim Son, gets by.
Bush lives in a bubble.

(repeat chorus and fade)