Victory was waiting for us, girl,

We were way ahead,

As I shot Webb’s feet, he danced,

I tiptoed ‘round the issues to the press;

But then said something stupid

That really crapped my pants:

CHORUS: Macaca Park is making things look dark

Sweet approval ratings going down;

Someone left my foot inside my mouth;

I don’t think that I can take it,

‘Cause it took so long to fake it,

And by “it” I mean an accent from the South.

Hey-o!

I recall the flannel cotton shirts

Making like a guy

With whom you could have a brew;

These hicks were total putty in my hands;

And that I was Californian no one knew.

CHORUS

There will be another play for me,

For I will win it,

There will be another day for me,

And screw term limits.

I will drink the wine from Napa Valley

And never let you catch me making any fun,

Of darkies, ragheads or wetbacks,

Chinamen or… wait… oh, crap,

Can this be Take One?

CHORUS