THE combed over mop
that covers the top
of your melon
was shocking at first

How you divide and conquer
and look down your honker
was abhorrent
and it only got worse

I didn't care for your breed
and insatiable need
to stomp on the
heads of your foes

The towers you've made
the wealth you parade
you're an anus
right down to your toes

But I've found new esteem
and though it may seem
my head's
populated with rocks

Somehow it all changed
and though it seems strange
it was thanks
to the idiot box

Your new t.v. show
has me dying to go
to the boardroom
and sit in your seat

And feel my heart race
as I purse up my face
and kick one more
ass to the street

Where I once looked with malice
on a bipedal phallus
I now see a man
I'd like to be

I could exercise power
from Drunky Bob Tower
and terminate
slackers with glee

I'd have my own goons
to behead the buffoons
and make them wish
they had never been born

And a rainy-day stash
— ten million in cash —
to squander
on 40s and porn

And of course without fail
an assistant named Gail
would make sure
my schedule was clean

For an afternoon treat
in the Drunky Bob suite
''All business''
If you know what I mean

And finally Don
I'm not putting you on
I'd have you to the
boardroom for a chat

There'd be Carolyn who
would bring George with her too
and you should all
bring your luggage and hats

And you'd just have to listen
your forehead a-glisten
with sweat
as you tremble with dread

''You've got lots of spunk
but you look like a punk
with that
badger den you call a head!''

Then before ''The Bob''
you'd plead for your job
and I'd grin
as you're wringing your hands

And without any guilt
I'd smile as you wilt
realizing
you've just gotten canned

I guess in the end
there's a lesson my friend
for you dictators
yes-men and thugs

You can't stay on top
with a comb over mop
maybe next time
you'll think about plugs