Got the perfect set of teeth.
An award winning smile.
But that guy underneath's 
just a crocodile.

We elected him to power.
No problem he can't solve,
yet hour after hour
we watched as he's evolved

from a vicious reptile.
Hear his mighty roar.
That ain't no crocodile.
It's Tyrant-A-Saur.

He rises with the dawn.
Wreaks havoc until dark,
and the White House lawn
has become Jurassic Park.

We could beg the military
to grant us some relief
but President Tyrant-A-Saur's
commander in chief.

We could hold a new election
but if anybody beats him
he sports a huge erection.
then chases, kills, and eats him.

We could hire an assassin.
Put a sniper on the roof,
but President Tyrant-A-Saur's
completely bulletproof.

We could try a crystal ball,
a magician or a wizard,
or a thirty foot tall
female lizard.

That might do the trick
or it might make matters worse.
The last thing that we need
is a T-Rex with a purse.

Then we'd have a breeding pair.
Their offspring would succeed.
Or she might just cut her hair
and think that it's her turn to lead.

That's the problem with those bitches.
You think they're heaven sent.
They don a pair of britches
and run for president.