A Badly Managed Perception

See the boot-licking, ass-kissing, chicken-shit Dave
As he spins like a top on the table
Never mentioning troops that he sent to their grave
As the price of his own career fable.

Like the basketball player of comedy fame
Who dribbled before he could shoot
He had Kagan and Keene conjure up a new name
For his mission-creep plan, old and moot.

Like those old books on COIN that we studied before
Back in nineteen and sixty and nine
Where we learned why the French had done badly at war
'Cause they thought to do Wrong was just fine.

But to Dave and his General-kind, Wrong's OK.
If you just do it more it will "work."
Which explains why they cannot tell nighttime from day
And pin medals galore on the jerk.

Then he fell for the lure of the camel-toe cleft.
Now he sells on TV his hot air:
"To prevent the return of the ones who've not left,
We'll assure that they're always still there."

So please, Dave, betray us with bullshit and spin
And collect some more loot for your lying.
You have proven that losing's the best way to "win,"
(If you don't mind a "few" thousands dying).