(To be sung with a sad but edgy blues flavor.

Why is it,
. . . my friend, when the war first began,
And the Congress said "yes," live on C-SPAN,
You were just itchin' to see the shit hit the fan,
And shrieked like a banshee when the bad guys ran?
. . . Why is it? Why is it? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!

Why is it. . .
. . . that personal behavior that would land you in jail,
If done by a nation merits praise and "all hail,"
Like in mob psychology, when morals just fail,
And bloodlust sweeps over, like a snowstorm gale?
. . . Why is it? Why is it? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!

Why the hell is it. . .
. . . that "caution" is like a curse word,
And "First do no harm" is considered absurd,
And "Do unto others. . ." means give 'em the bird,
Because the "Bottom Line" is the only sound to get heard?
. . . Why is it? Why is it? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!

But why the hell is it. . .
. . .that pastors and prelates insist they must teach,
or we'd get confused and misled without hearin' ‘em preach,
when goodness and kindness is well within reach
of people who do it without givin' a speech?
. . . Why is it? Why is it? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!

Why the hell is it. . .
. . . when human sacrifice is a thing of the past,
and to do that to children just leaves us aghast,
yet so many kids learn of dyin' so fast,
and we send ours to join them, saying "have yourself a blast"?
. . . Why is it? Why is it? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!

And why the hell is it. . .
. . . that I feel far off, distant, like a desert from rain,
and the next right thing leads to very small gain,
and God seems a loser - it's hard to explain
to a soul, to a world, enwrapped so in pain.
Why is it, my soul? What's wrong with us?
- Aw, sit down an' shut up! Don't be rockin' the bus!