Lyrics

They're laying steel plates, on Constitution Avenue,
Twenty-eight Abrams' through the June haze,
Golden Knights painting red-white-blue across the noon blaze—

For the General's birthday and the Army's 250th too.
Rubber tracks chew, asphalt where the cherry blossoms bled,
"*This We'll Defend*" on every banner overhead,

Scotty Hasting sings "God Bless the Troops" while the Bradley's struggle to roll, now the Mall smells like diesel, not apple pie and coal.

Oh, it's MAGA meets the Military in the capital's flame,
Tanks like birthday candles spelling out trumps name,
Forty-five million dollars for the rockets and the show,
While the West Coast burns with riots where the olive trees grow.

*Do you hear the people sing?* — the Army Choir belted out to start the show, Now we march for “No kings day” on streets across America to celebrate the end of the country , or a brand new day!

They purged the JAGs who dared to call a war crime wrong, Banned Angelou's books but kept old Adolf's slogans long,

Trans soldiers exiled in the Pride Month dawn,
While Hegseth guzzled shots all night long, No more dudes in dresses, they’re fuckin gone.

From L.A. raids to D.C.'s parade-ground lies,
National Guard isn’t getting paid to watch tears in children’s eyes, There will be no pay. It’s all a bunch of lies.

Oh, it's MAGA meets the Military in the capital's flame,
Twenty-five tons of vengeance will finally end this fuckin game.

"*Peanuts*," he calls the cost while the hospitals close,
As the Hueys scream vengeance against them all!
*Do you hear the people sing?* — they asked us at the Ball, Now we'll answer with our lives, When we get the call

Seventy-nine years old and hungry for review,
Since Bastille Day in Paris, lit that penis envy in you—

Six thousand boots stamp out the people's voice,
And Corporate sponsors cheer: Tesler made the choice and coca-cola’s selling beer.
*"Tear gas in McPherson Square..."*
*"The dog's name still isn't public..."*
*"Sixteen million just for road repairs..."*
*"Whose freedom did we fight for, the answers not clear, At least the bastard lost a tiny piece of ear.

So happy birthday, Mr. President, from your "losers" and your "suckers," As we fight our way through your carnival of fuckers.

Billy two dogs wrote this song, But now he’s long gone, He left the country fought for so he could party on!

When the last firework fades behind the Washington Monument's glare, Remember:
Les Misérables ends with a barricade somewhere...