(instrumental intro)
 

Lately, I've been thinking how much I miss my lady; Condoleeza's in the West Wing,  Brightening the daybreak. Living with a lust for power,  Running through the grass for hours; Rolling in your Hum-vee like an Army-child. And when it rains oil dollars down, Washington's a cattle town. And she's far away somewhere With Colin Powell, out-of-town. And she screens my corporate schemes; Protects me from those wild dreams when we swelled, Like corporations fit to burst upon each other. I can see you by the window,  Planning firststrikes in the evening. The fruit juice flowing slowly, slowly, slowly Down the bronze of your bombshells. Stokin ' up my lust for power,  Bombing old Baghdad, oh, for hours; Flyin' your Apache like an Army-child.

Oh, if only we could nestle in that hangout, back in Saudi.
My arms around your shoulders, the Bin Laden's laughin' and jokin'.
While the smart bombs and the children are playing in the valley.
Oh, I miss you. Condoleeza. like a banker miss his money.

Lately I've been thinking how much I miss my lady;
Condoleeza's sowing minefields and clearin' out the terror.
Living like a lusty flower, bombin' ole Saddam, oh, for hours.
Rolling through old Baghdad like an Army-child.
Rolling in my Hum-vee with my puppy-child.

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