Mister Peepers
God bless the bureaucrat and the lawyer, too
They're public punching bags
But someone's gotta do it
It's not so sexy, the procedure or the truth
I say God bless the bureaucrat and the lawyer, too
The House Intelligence Committee piles on
They'd love to know what Rosenstein has on the boss
But it's just for cameras, yeah, it's just a show of force
Y'all know he can't comply
But that's the point, of course
So they call him Mister Peepers
As the thugs all smash his glasses
Going full Lord of the Flies
Burning this island down to ashes
What's the rule of law if we can't agree on what a fact is?
There ain't nothing here to see, folks, move along, move along
Thank God for facts
They're stubborn things indeed
But little cowboys will try cases on TV
It doesn't make it so
Because you make believe
You can't lose in court and appeal on Hannity
The distinguished wrestler from Ohio
He's free to lie, he's not the one who's under oath
The law don't suit the boss
This Deputy must go
We got him in the locker room, boys
Start the show
So they call him Mister Peepers
Send some thugs to smash his glasses
If he's gone and peeped the wrong thing
Then they'll burn his name to ashes
What's the rule of law
If we can't establish what a fact is?
There ain't nothing here to see, folks, move along, ah move along
They say it dies in the dark
Right now, they're trying to kill it in broad daylight
Can flashlights really fight bombs?
We'll see
Right now
You boys are Christians, right?
What would Jesus do?
Would he bury crimes and carry water like a stooge?
Or smear a family man in case he tells the truth
About the boss?
Yeah, what would Jesus do?
Would he call him Mister Peepers?
Send some thugs to smash his glasses?
The institution's standing tall
Though we tried our best to trash it
Aren't we all the keepers
Of this fragile young Republic?
And when all those Mister Peepers people fall
Lord help us all
They're public punching bags
But someone's gotta do it
It's not so sexy, the procedure or the truth
I say God bless the bureaucrat and the lawyer, too
The House Intelligence Committee piles on
They'd love to know what Rosenstein has on the boss
But it's just for cameras, yeah, it's just a show of force
Y'all know he can't comply
But that's the point, of course
So they call him Mister Peepers
As the thugs all smash his glasses
Going full Lord of the Flies
Burning this island down to ashes
What's the rule of law if we can't agree on what a fact is?
There ain't nothing here to see, folks, move along, move along
Thank God for facts
They're stubborn things indeed
But little cowboys will try cases on TV
It doesn't make it so
Because you make believe
You can't lose in court and appeal on Hannity
The distinguished wrestler from Ohio
He's free to lie, he's not the one who's under oath
The law don't suit the boss
This Deputy must go
We got him in the locker room, boys
Start the show
So they call him Mister Peepers
Send some thugs to smash his glasses
If he's gone and peeped the wrong thing
Then they'll burn his name to ashes
What's the rule of law
If we can't establish what a fact is?
There ain't nothing here to see, folks, move along, ah move along
They say it dies in the dark
Right now, they're trying to kill it in broad daylight
Can flashlights really fight bombs?
We'll see
Right now
You boys are Christians, right?
What would Jesus do?
Would he bury crimes and carry water like a stooge?
Or smear a family man in case he tells the truth
About the boss?
Yeah, what would Jesus do?
Would he call him Mister Peepers?
Send some thugs to smash his glasses?
The institution's standing tall
Though we tried our best to trash it
Aren't we all the keepers
Of this fragile young Republic?
And when all those Mister Peepers people fall
Lord help us all
Credits
Writer(s): Benjamin Scott Folds
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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