Is this the real vote? Is this just fantasy?
No Bush or Gore landslide, so we''re mired in legalities
Almost a tie, both sides tell their lies with
such ease . . .

Bush:
I''m just a rich boy, I need no sympathy
Because I''m easy come, easy go
I dropped the booze, dropped the blow
Anyway the vote goes doesn''t really matter, to
me, to me....

Mama, just love this ranch
Stocked my pond with fresh new bass
How I love the upper class!
Mama, life is such good fun
But now they''re trying to take it all away!
Mama, oooh, didn''t mean to run for prez
But you know I always do what daddy sez
I''ll carry on, carry on, as if nothing really
matters...

Gore:
Too late, my campaign''s done, but I''m still
working all the time
Poaching votes is not a crime!
Goodbye, everybody--no wait, I just can''t go!
Let''s count the chads and never ever face the
truth

Bush:
Mama, ooooo, (any way the wind blows) I don''t
mean to bitch
Sometimes I wish I''d never been born so rich

Guitar solo, then bouncy piano interlude

Gore:
I see a little silhouetto of a chad

Chorus:
You''re a mooch, you''re a mooch, will you do the
recount tango?
Pregnant chads, backbiting -- very very
frightening to see!
Broward County, Palm Beach County
Broward County, Palm Beach County
Broward County, Volusia County,
Tallahassee-oh-oh-oh!

Bush:
I''m just a rich boy, nobody loves me

Chorus:
He''s just a rich boy from a rich family
They treat the White House like a Bush legacy!

Gore:
He''s so dumb, I''m the one, will you give me
votes?

Chorus (Republicans only):
Be still you wonk! You cannot have the votes!

Gore: Give me votes!
Be still you -- You cannot have the votes!

Gore: Give me votes!
Be still you -- You cannot have the votes!

Gore: Oh give me vooo-o-o-otes!

Chorus: No no no no no!

Bush:
Oh mama mia, mama mia! Mama mia keep my votes!

Chorus:
Beelzebub has a butterfly ballot for thee, for
thee, for thee . . . .

Rockin'' guitar solo

Gore:
So you think you can beat me on the very frst
try?
So you think the recounts can''t be done on the
sly?
Oh Dubya, can''t do this to me Dubya
We''ll just keep counting, till I take the oath
come next year!

Rockin'' guitar solo gives way to orchestral
crescendo and then a
plaintive piano . . .

Chorus:
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah, ooh yeah

Gore:
Nothing really matters, as the country plainly
sees

Bush:
Nothing really matters, cuz Al is really just ...
like ... me

Chorus:
Any way the votes go . . .

(Gong)