Santorum got on Monica's dress
Jesus Christ was made a mess
The young one had such great heart
The elder was just an old fart
One loved men the other loved man
neither do you understand
take some pills and quiet the voices
shoot the villain and scare the horses
one gave us Bird's and an orangutan
only YOU think they are the same
anti hero anti villain
can't be killed with penicillin
the son opens up the tent
revealing the night his father spent
with Bachuss and his fruit
when father awoke he seemed a brute
away the son went to show them all
that his was really his father's fall
curiosity surely killed the cat
but he was never meant to be black
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and at each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
the basement door is where you look
behind the curtain lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
but didn't he, make you stare
outside the wall they hang the fruit
they hang em high where you can't shoot
the righteous man wears no scar
the unforgiven clears the bar
Every man wears the mark
of the one who hears no bark
he is just a laughing barber
who grants you no safe harbor
To Osama or the immigrant
he is cruel and arrogant
Bauer strolling down his lane
the old letter is such a pain
turn from the strange fruit and it's stench
it fills your nose til you repent
this is the message that must be sent
not what you saw behind the tent
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
in ancient letters is where you look
behind the robes lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
but do you think he is kind of queer
from the mouth of babes hear the roar
it's all about the encore
tear down this wall and that one too
never build it anew
Until you hear him one and all
a middle finger to you all
and yes you are number one
to you he gave his true son
the Patriot may be another
the Nun said he was her brother
she should know better than me
so with that I will let it be
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
the ballot box is where to look
behind the curtain lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
acting as if you were never there
Jesus Christ was made a mess
The young one had such great heart
The elder was just an old fart
One loved men the other loved man
neither do you understand
take some pills and quiet the voices
shoot the villain and scare the horses
one gave us Bird's and an orangutan
only YOU think they are the same
anti hero anti villain
can't be killed with penicillin
the son opens up the tent
revealing the night his father spent
with Bachuss and his fruit
when father awoke he seemed a brute
away the son went to show them all
that his was really his father's fall
curiosity surely killed the cat
but he was never meant to be black
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and at each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
the basement door is where you look
behind the curtain lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
but didn't he, make you stare
outside the wall they hang the fruit
they hang em high where you can't shoot
the righteous man wears no scar
the unforgiven clears the bar
Every man wears the mark
of the one who hears no bark
he is just a laughing barber
who grants you no safe harbor
To Osama or the immigrant
he is cruel and arrogant
Bauer strolling down his lane
the old letter is such a pain
turn from the strange fruit and it's stench
it fills your nose til you repent
this is the message that must be sent
not what you saw behind the tent
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
in ancient letters is where you look
behind the robes lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
but do you think he is kind of queer
from the mouth of babes hear the roar
it's all about the encore
tear down this wall and that one too
never build it anew
Until you hear him one and all
a middle finger to you all
and yes you are number one
to you he gave his true son
the Patriot may be another
the Nun said he was her brother
she should know better than me
so with that I will let it be
You will know them by their fruit
In LA they wore a suit
at Rosewood and each Island
the smell of fruit fills the asylum
the ballot box is where to look
behind the curtain lies the crook
he had no problem with that chair
acting as if you were never there
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