McFrog goes to the Mall

Thousand rode their hope into D.C.
like Thelma and Louise
and… I guess the cops would be…
what? War? Death? Despair?
Sounds good: Caught between despair and the Grand Canyon.

But first we gotta stop at the IHOP.
Nothing like a Rutti Tutti Fresh and Frutti
and an endless pot of coffee to get me
bloated, wired, and ready to raise hell.

I now know that stopping at the IHOP
made me a massive hypocrite.
It’s owned by George W. Bush
and he sends half the employees to Iraq
with nothing for protection but
an apron and a gun that shoots Boysenberry syrup.
(Is that a biological or a chemical weapon?)
But hey, you gotta eat where the tour bus stops.

I used my powers to see what the news coverage would be.

Did you ever notice
how there is almost never 100,000 people at a protest?
It’s always in the 70’s to 90’s.
I guess there’s something too legitimate about 100,000 people.

McFrog was not on the news, anywhere. Nope.
You had to be wearing a black bandanna and a “Free Mumia” T-shirt.
I didn’t see them at the IHOP!

I stopped marching and rested my back
on the Vietnam memorial.
A voice seeped through the wall and into my ear.
“Don’t sweat it man.
This marching shit didn’t work when it was new.
People never give a fuck until it’s too late”

And I mourned for the men with flapjacks instead of flack jackets
wielding boysenberry cannons
for the big sausage himself.