Iran, Iran, Iran,
you live in a garbage can.
you can't shoot your way out
so you holler about,
Like a girl with a burning suntan.
Death! Death! Death! Death!
to America,
you scream at the top of your lungs,
but instead of behaving,
you insist on proliferating
Now join that other pariah, Il-Sung.
Who do you think you are fooling?
we can all see you mad mullahs there, drooling.
here's a thought for you fools:
concentrate on the tools,
That will improve your poor citizens' schooling.
Iran, oh sweet Persia, please keep,
your arsenal of nuke missiles asleep.
For if you should try,
to alight up the sky,
Israel shall rename you 'Bo-Peep'.
So dry up all that spit in your beards,
and dispense with the nonsensical cheers,
climb out of your dungheap,
and get on with the upkeep,
Until you can look in the mirror.
