A long, long time ago
I can still remember
when that fraud Trump used to make me smile.

And I knew we would have a chance
to find Barack's successor stance
and we would still be happy for a while.

But February made me shiver
New Hampshire totals were delivered.
Bad news on the TV:
They'd chosen someone sleazy.

I do remember I just sighed:
"They'll reject him, they know he's lied."
But something chilled me deep inside
the year... every... thing died.

So
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

Did you write the books of Trump?
And did he read them, that dumb-haired grump?
"Believe me," he told you so.

And do you believe in rock and roll
but Nugent and Kid Rock don't have soul
and can you tell me
why Trump's fans are real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
'cause I saw you chanting in the gym.
You thought his words were true
and beat protestors black and blue!

I was a lonely midage Jersey buck
who knew Trump was a bigoted schmuck
but I knew we were out of luck
the year... every... thing died.

I started singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

Now, for 8 years, Barack had our back
as once did Frank, and Bill, and Jack.
Yes, that's how it used to be.

But a Jester squared up to the Queen
with lies not exposed by John Dean
and a voice that sickened you and me.

Oh, and while the Queen was looking down
the Russians stole her hard-earned crown.
The media was adjourned:
No verdict was returned!

He's got hair worse than Richard Marx
and views older than Fenway Park
so we sang dirges in the dark
the year... every... thing died.

We were singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

Gordie Howe, Muhammad Ali
Glenn Frey and Prince, David Bowie
the big names were falling fast.

Leonard Cohen and Johan Cruiff
and Leia left planetary life
and R2 and John Glenn had final blast.

Now, by half-year, we'd lost Patty Duke.
Losing Merle Haggard was no fluke.
We asked for one more dance
but George Michael didn't get a chance!

'Cause the living tried to claim the field
The Grim Reaper refused to yield.
Too many people's fates were sealed
the year... every... thing died.

We were singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

Oh, and there we were, at polling place
ready to slap Trump in the face
but we would get betrayed again.

So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
Electoral College made us sick
'cause Putin is The Donald's only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
his supporters seethed with bigots' rage.
No angel: Born in Hell
and he can't f***ing spell!

And as the shock climbed high into the night
to set us up for sacrificial rite
I saw Putin laughing with delight
the year... every... thing died.

He started singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

I met a girl I voted for
and I asked her, "Are you really sore?"
But she just smiled and turned away.

And I went down to Carnegie
for deli food that once fed me
but the man there said the slicer wouldn't play.

And in the streets, the children gabbed
hoping nothing would get grabbed.
Upon these words, we're chokin':
Democracy is broken.

And the enemy that we feared most
replaced by terrorists, we'd boast
they burned us all like borscht on toast
the year... every... thing died.

We were singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died.
This is the year that everything died."

We were singing:
Dos vedanya, Miss Russian Pie
Drove my Lada where I hadda, 'cause I hadda get by
And good old boys, they dropped their whiskey and rye
realized, "This is the year that everything died!"