This is a parody of Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan. I offer him my apologies and my reverence. He has always been my music hero.
Here is the text:
Trumpterranean Homesick Blues
(with no mention of Epstein, the island or the files.
Donnie’s in the basement, lyin’ ‘bout Sleepy Joe.
I’m on the pavement, munching on a Sloppy Joe.
The man in a flak jack, no badge, facemask,
Says he’s got a hip flask, wants to spray my gas mask.
Look out kid, it’s not about your skin.
God knows why but you’re bein’ brown again.
Better duck into the library, looking for a has been.
The Man-From-GOP with the gold pen
Wants eleven dollars tax, you only got ten.
[Verse 2]
Kristi cracks horse whip, face full of lip flip,
Sayin’ that she’ll rip you just for a roach clip.
Leavitt lies anyway.
Leavittt says that many say
They must bust in early May, orders from the DA.
Look out kid, don’t matter what you did.
Walk on your tip toes, real free speech blows.
Better stay away from those who master how to brown-nose.
Predispose to ignore the pedos.
You need to be a Proud Boy to know which way the blood flows
[Verse 3]
Oh, get sick, get well, try not to go to hell.
Shit smell, hard to tell if ketchup on the wall fell.
Veep Vance, couch pants, no dance, e-mail
Bound to derail, be a footnote if you fail.
Look out kid, you’re gonna get hit
By losers, cheaters, girlie users,
Hangin round the theaters.
Girl by the whirlpool’s gonna be a man tool.
Don’t follow leaders, and watch poetic meters.
[Verse 4]
Oh, get born, learn norms, stand lines, pay fines for
Concubines, get fat, shoot gats, try to wear a red hat
Donald, JD, Marco, Hegseth, big dicks
January 6, gets a pardon, and a job fix.
Look out kid, they keep it all hid.
Congress can’t complain, full of losers and the lame.
“Courts Right As Rain” means you’re totally insane.
Don’t want to be left scum? better play dumb.
The Court don’t work cuz McConnell left a bloodstain.
Tag Archives: lyrics
M.A.G.A./Epstein’s Island
M.A.G.A./Epstein’s Island (Parody of “Y.M.C.A.” by the Village People)
MAGA, there’s no need to feel riled
I said, MAGA, there are no Epstein files
I said, MAGA, don’t stop the Seig Heils
There’s no need to be unhappy
MAGA, you can hate Mexico
I said, MAGA, there’s a place you can go
You can stay there, and I’m sure you will find
Many ways to have a good time
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
They have everything that pedos enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys.
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island.
You can get your pipes cleaned,
And keep your esteem,
It’s a goddamned pervert’s dream.
MAGA, keep worshipping me,
I said, MAGA, be like Epstein,
I said, MAGA, you can make real your dreams,
But you’ve got to know this one thing
No man does it all by himself,
I said, MAGA, young girls want to help,
Just go there to Epstein’s Island,
I’m sure they can help you today.
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
They have all the things that perverts enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys.
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island.
You can get your pipes cleaned,
And keep your esteem,
It’s a goddamned pervert’s dream.
MAGA, you’re living the dream,
I said, MAGA, be part of the scheme,
You’ll get what you want, don’t ask why,
Just ride through Epstein’s sky
When Epstein came up to me,
And said, “Donald, take a plane ‘cross the sea,”
Island’s waiting, no need to hide,
Take a ride, leave morals aside.
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay on Epstein’s Island,
They have everything that perverts enjoy,
You can hang out with little boys.
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island,
It’s fun to stay at Epstein’s Island.
You can get your pipes cleaned,
And keep your esteem,
It’s a real damned pervert’s wet dream.
M.A.G.A.
M.A.G.A.
MAGA Rhapsody
On the day of tRump’s birthday Parade I offer a new parody to the tune of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Written by Steve Marsh with Executive Producer credits to Debora Marsh.
MAGA Rhapsody
A parody to the tune of “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen
Lyrics by Steve Marsh
Executive Producer: Debora Marsh
(Chorus)
Is this the real life?
Or just conspiracy?
Caught in a tweetstorm,
Out of touch with reality—
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and lie—
(Trump)
I’m just a rich guy, I get no sympathy,
Because I’m easy bought, ego stroked,
Truth is fake, logic broke—
Any way the vote goes
Doesn’t really matter
To me,
(TO ME…)
….
Interlude
(Trump)
Mama, just duped the land,
Put a big lie in their head,
Waved the flag which wraps their dead—
Mama, MAGA’s beautiful,
But now I’ve gone and stirred the Proud Boys’ pride—
Mama—OOOH,
Didn’t mean to tweet so loud,
If you don’t find me back at Mar-A-Lago,
Carry on, carry guns—
The truth doesn’t matter.
Too late, my time has come,
The walls are closing in,
Got indictments on my skin—
Goodbye, MAGA crew,
I’ve got to grift—
Gotta leave you all behind for crypto coin—
Mama—OOOH (any way the vote goes), DEB
I don’t wanna lose,
Sometimes wish I’d never agreed to run…
Interlude)
(Chorus)
I see a little silhouetto of a man—
Orange glow! Orange glow!
Can he dance a Mar-a-Lambo?
Thunderbolts and libel,
And a handsigned Bible, see—
(Guns ‘n’ tariffs!) GUNS ‘N’ TARIFFS!
(Guns ‘n’ tariffs!) GUNS ‘N’ TARIFFS!
Guns ‘n’ tariffs! Let him go!
(Trump) ?
I’m just a rich boor, nobody loves me—
(Chorus)
He’s just a rich boor from a gold family!
Spare him his place in fake history!
(Trump)
Easy win, easy grift—
Will you let me go?
(Chorus)
Q-A-non! No—we will not let him go! LET HIM GO! DEB
Q-A-non! We will not let him go! LET HIM GO
Q-A-non! We will not let him go! LET HIM GO
Will not Let him go—will not let him go!
No no no oh oh oh!
OH, MAGA MIA, MAGA MIA
(Trump)
Democracy has a jail cell just for me (for meeeee… for meeeeeeee!)
(Interlude)
(Trump)
So you think you can stone me and leave me to lie?
So you think you can fact-check and spit in my eye?!
Oh baby—
Can’t jail me like that, baby!
Just gotta get out,
Just gotta run right to Vlad’mir.
(Interlude)
Nothing really matters,
Not the law, not facts—
Nothing really matters,
MAGA… doesn’t matter…
…to me.
Interlude
(Chorus)
Any way the vote goes
Hotel Mar-A-Lago
This is a parody of Hotel California by the Eagles. It is called
Hotel Mar-A-Lago
In a land full of slogans, red hats in the mist,
Gaslight fills the air, can’t tell what I missed.
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a gold-plated sign.
My head grew heavy and my morals dim–
Had to stop for the crime.
There he stood in the doorway, with a spray-tanned grin,
And I was thinking to myself,
“This could be hell or he’s golfing again.”
Then he lit up a Big Mac and he waved me inside.
Voices down the Mar-A-Hallway
Said, “Enjoy the red tide.”
(Chorus)
Welcome to the Hotel Mar-A-Lago.
Such a freaky place (such a sneaky face),
Billionaire3 disgrace.
Plenty of room at the Hotel Mar-A-Lago.
Any time of year, (fake news and fear),
You can gaslight here.
His mind is mostly Twitter, his heart is full of spite.
He’s got a cabinet of sychophants
Who chant, “You’re always right.”
And Elon’s in the courtyard, unfollowed and half-banned,
Shouting “Mars,” and “DOGE,” and “Epstein.”
Still no one understands.
They built a wall of nonsense, with lies that never end,
But the truth got fact-checked at the border.
Now they just pretend.
And in the Lincoln bedroom they argue with a ghost.
Honest Abe’s been grave spinning
While Elon is fully dosed.
Welcome to the Hotel Mar-A-Lago,
Such a clownish scene (with a beauty queen),
On a fascist lean.
Livin’ it up at the Hotel Mar-A-Lago.
What a nice surprise (full of alibis)
When the facts all die.
TV on the ceiling. Big Macs stacked on gold,
And he said, “We are just kings of truth, the lies we have sold,”
And in the gilded bathroom, they gathered for the spin.
They quoted Ten Commandments but denied the deadly sins.
Last thing I remember, I was running for the gate.
I had to find the fact check crew before it got too late.
“Relax,” said the butler, “we’re designed to deceive–
You can log out any time you want…but you’ll still believe.”
Another rendition by friend, Joe Troyer. Thanks, Joe
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
I didn’t get to the protests on April 5, 2025. I was sad about it, so I looked at all the pictures from around the nation and saw a protest sign that prompted this song. This is my offering in lieu of pounding the pavement. It is a parody and I have no singing voice, but good protest is not based on a person’s singing voice. Here are the lyrics:
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
Even though the MAGA clowns appear not to have noticed.
Blowing up the constitution really should have showed us.
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
It started back years ago when Trump was in New York.
He’d rent to white folks easily despite their line of work.
Black folks found it harder to get through Trump’s front door
Until the US Government sued his ass and more.
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
His call for tariffs in the world is really too too bogus.
To drink enough to ease my pain will only cause cirrhosis.
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
Dumb little liar, dumb little lie.
He rode an escalator and MAGA went ape shit.
They gobbled up the steaming pile of all that he did spit.
It didn’t matter if he spoke the truth or a big lie,
They ate it up and spit it back and screamed “Zeig Heil! Big Guy!”
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
Protection for plans of war is really quite atrocious.
All the stress I’m feeling’s arteriosclerosis.
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
And now he’s crashed the market and killed my pension plan.
I guess I need a cardboard sign and a great big old tin can.
But it won’t matter much because I will be dead,
Or locked up in a foreign cell…
Or locked up in a foreign cell, eating mouldy bread.
StupidCallousFragileRacistSexistNaziPotus
https://youtu.be/v9cpQiERZzw
You Can’t Kill Love (No Matter How Hard You Try)
Dedicated to you. If you think it’s you, it is.
I tried to kill my love for you.
I shot it full of holes—
Stabbing, choking, poison—
In a battle for my soul.
I tampered with its brake lines.
I stretched it on the rack.
I surgically removed my heart,
But it kept coming back.
FEMALE CHORUS
Love SAYS, “I didn’t vote for
This fate for you, my friend.
But I’ll be here, year after year,
Until the very end.
Until the stars wink out at night
And the sun turns cold and stark.
‘Til Entropy rules splendidly
In a last act cold and dark.
I tried to drown it in the bath.
I held it down for hours.
I tried to bury love for you
Beneath the yellow flowers.
But up it leaps from way down deep
And struts upon its stage.
It reads the saddest tale of all,
But never turns the page.
MALE CHORUS
I tried to drown it in a bottle
They made in old Bombay.
I persevered for 10 long years
And 27 days.
But love kept coming back
Like a cat with 7 lives,
With big sharp teeth, a screeching voice
And claws like switchblade knives.
I tried to hang it on my chest
Like a medal for the brave.
I tried to spank it publicly
In hopes it would behave.
But it acts just like a spoiled brat
With snot upon its nose
And so I beat it ceaselessly
With a stick and rubber hose.
FULL CHORUS
Brother-Man, Joe Troyer comes through again! This is an early run-through of the song in his best country/folk rendition. Thank you, Joe.
The No Memory Song
I am 73 years old on this writing. No person of this age ignores the prospect of diminishing cognitive abilities. If it is inevitable, I have written this song and addressed my care-givers. If you laugh, it’s ok. If you cry, it’s ok. I’ve done both in writing this. What I haven’t done is have a miraculous recovery of my singing voice. The video will attest.
Here are the lyrics if you want to sing along:
The No Memory Song
Sung to tune of Ripple by Grateful Dead
If I lose my mind, will you still love me?
When my mem’ries fade, like the morning dawn,
If I see your face and I call the wrong name,
Would you still hold me? Is that fear forgone?
If I just forget to eat my breakfast.
Or worst of all, when I eat it at two,
Will you wave your hand and just forget it?
Because you know I’ll forget it too.
Silence speaks a language.
When there is no knowing thought,
Words do not flow.
If I call your phone when I get lost driving,
When I can’t make sense of the streets and roads?
Will you talk me through each turn and corner
And smile at my face when I get safely home?
If I get too sad but I can’t say why, Dear,
I feel there was something great before,
Will you hold my hand and sit beside me
Until the sun goes down and is no more?
Silence speaks a language.
When there is no knowing thought,
Words do not flow.
If I lose the words to sing this song, dear,
And I stumble and start and stop in pain,
Will you let me hum and call it singing
This song to you a few more times again,
This song to you over and over again,
This song to you again and again and again?
La da da da da La da da da da
La da da La da La da da da
La da da da da La da da da da
La da da da La da da da da
[290]
UPDATE: Friend, Joe Troyer, put this video together and I host it on my YouTube channel. Enjoy…he’s a much better singer than I.
I’m Tired of Living in a Country Song
Let me make it clear: this is not tale of my life today. It was a time in my marriage that was much different from now. But I can’t deny it was a real time. Also NOTE, regular text is spoken, italic text is sung.
I’m tired of living in a country song
But here I am,
Sitting in my truck,
Looking down an endless highway
With less than a quarter tank of three dollar gas.
I’m tired of living a country song
So, I’ll take the truck and drive along.
I’ll let the dog ride shotgun next to me.
But any old road that I choose now,
Well, that’s a road you won’t go down.
So, we’re headed in different ways, it’s plain to see.
The only thing I know for sure
Is you don’t want me around no more
And I’m staring down a highway I can’t drive.
I’m sick and tired of mad and sad.
I’m looking hard for a little glad,
And we’re layin’ down this song in concert live.
The biggest question we have right now
Is who gets custody of the last dog,
And if I have time to get my teeth fixed
Before the insurance runs out.
Highway moves from town to town.
But staying here just brings me down.
I just can’t be the me I wanna be.
I know you know I’m not the man
You tried to make when we began,
And I can’t be the me you wanna see.
So maybe I’ll grab the dog and drive away
Drink some beer and
Learn to play the slide guitar.
Wish you luck
And catch your act in Wichita.
All duets will end one day
And each of us is less, they say,
Than half of what we were when we were one.
But less than half is more by far
Than all of any falling star
That burns completely out before it’s done.
I’m tired of living a country song
So, I’ll take the truck and drive along.
I’ll let the dog ride shotgun next to me.
But any old road that I choose now,
Well, that’s a road you won’t go down.
So, we’re headed in different ways, it’s plain to see.
[244]
Chocolate Sprinkles
You know I don’t write these things to rip off famous people. I write them (and “sing” them) as an homage. I mark them as parody for legal purposes.
I adore Tom Waites. He and I are on parallel developmental paths. His involves more fame and money, but the aesthetics are parallel. This is called
Chocolate Sprinkles.
I have to get chocolate sprinkles
on my ice cream when you’re away.
If I don’t get chocolate sprinkles,
I’m bound to have a shitty day.
Chorus
I thank God for chocolate sprinkles.
I thank God for vanilla ice cream.
I thank God you don’t leave me
Except in my worst kind of dreams.
Chocolate sprinkles can’t hug and kiss me.
They can’t even stroke my cheek,
But they liven up my whole demeanor
And make me smile when I am weak.
Chorus
I don’t want no hot fudge sundae.
I don’t want no banana split.
I sure as hell don’t want no sorbet.
And waffle cones taste like shit.
Chorus.
[130]
Banging and Crunching
I wanted to see what AI could do in terms of writing a song. Here is the prompt and the result. (The first one is AI. The second one is me. It’s probably a tie.)
Prompt: Write a classic rock song about a retiree’s narrow life in a universe that expands infinitely.
Verse 1:
Woke up one morning, feeling so darn old
Got aches in my bones, my story’s been told
Been livin’ life in the slow lane, same old song
Watching the world fly by, feels like I don’t belong
Chorus:
In a universe that’s ever expanding
My life seems so narrow, suffocating
Gotta find a way to break free, to fly
Before my time’s up and the whole world passes by
Verse 2:
I’ve been stuck in this rut for far too long
Wasting my days in a routine floatin’ on
But the universe out there is vast and grand
And life’s too short not to make a stand
Chorus:
Bridge:
I may be getting old, but my spirit’s still young
With the fire in my soul, I can’t be outdone
Gonna take that leap of faith, spread my wings and fly
In the face of a universe that refuses to die
Chorus:
Then I watched Monty Python’s video The Galaxy Song and this happened.
Banging and Crunching
(Since You’ve Been Gone)
Verse:
I’m a 73 year old retiree.
I spend my day primarily making tea (and pee)
Though there’s no one here with whom I converse,
I’m the center of the expanding universe.
We’re a hundred miles apart since that day
Three years ago when you went away, (far away)
Like drinking good cognac,and hiking up a track,
Getting gone takes less time than getting back.(that’s a fact)
Bridge:
The math is undeniable, Sweetheart.
Since you left we’ve drifted far too far apart
Verse:
Einstein’s Relativity cleared the path.
Hubble marked the signposts in his math. (so much math)
It’s not that everything flies away.
It’s the space itself expanding every way.
From right to left to up to down to back
You are speeding out away into the black.
From my front to to your front, however, dear,
A red shift is apparent, seen from here. (It’s clear.)
Bridge:
My only hope is to see the start of the Big Crunch
In a 100 million years or so we can shout and wave a bunch
Verse:
I’ve done some calculations on the cuff (off the cuff!)
To see if this distance is enough
At 42 miles a second per megaparsec,
And under this much gravity—double check— (what the heck)
The father away, the faster you recede
The longer gone, the greater is your speed.
Like raisins in the rising raisin dough,
We’re sitting still all while we’re on the go. (Sooooooooo)
Bridge:
I’m rooting for the Big Crunch I’ll wait right here for you
And in a billion years or so, you’ll be right here with me too.
Until the Big Crunch I’ll wait right here for you
And in a billion years or so, you’ll be right here with me too.
(90)