Cheney: "I Am a Crock"

Yesterday, in a comment on a post of another parody poem in a post of it on The Daily Kos, I was asked if I could do one on Dick Cheney.  I did, and presented it as a comment.

This morning, I reworked it a bit, and offer it as a bit of breakfast amusement (for more, go here to see the Carnival of the Liberals Parody Poetry edition):

I Am a Crock

(With Apologies to) Paul Simon

For Trashablanca

A winter’s day

In a deep and dark Fed bunker;

I am alone,

Gazing through my spyhole at the nukes way down below

On my fresh and deadly warheads set to go.

`Cause I’m a crock,

Taking what I can.

I’ve built walls,

A fortress deep and mighty,

That none may penetrate.

I have no need of friendship; my friendship causes pain.

I’ll shoot them for it’s loving I disdain.

`Cause I’m a crock,

Taking what I can.

Don’t talk to doves,

Well I’ve heard their words before;

They’re sleeping in my memory.

I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.

But I never cared; I never would have cried.

`Causet I’m a crock,

Taking what I can.

I have my crooks

And my shotguns to protect me;

I am shielded in my armor,

Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.

I touch no one and no one touches me.

`Cause I’m a crock,

Taking what I can.

And a crock feels no pain;

And only others die.