Freedom Fries
The fries were never French. But(t) the freedom? And what about the Fasc!st Fries? It's complicated.
Lyrics
[intro] Excuse me, mam, excuse me, sir, Did you know, it’s quite a blur… Belgium took the golden prize, When it comes to frying fries! [verse] Fact-check the humor, wrong wars galore, Belgian lore, we can’t ignore. Freedom fries? Oh, what a joke! Let’s keep the history’s heavy yoke. [pre-chorus] Why are Belgian fries so damn fine? ’Cuz they’re the crisp of the line! How to make a Belgian go loco? In a round room, fries in the corner! (Hey, whoa!) [chorus] In the land of ketchup free, Patriots cheer for liberty! But knock-offs rule with spite, No real fry in sight! Freedom fries, oh, can’t you see, They’re a greasy parody! [verse 2] Proud jocks of the House of Spite, No reprieve from the food fight. Serve up lies with fries on the side, False facts, and pride worldwide. [bridge] Rhetoric hot, yapping loud, Jocks in suits, heads too proud. Mocking, blocking, facts all junk, Political fries served with funk! [chorus] In the land of ketchup free, Patriots cheer for liberty! But knock-offs rule with spite, No real fry in sight! Freedom fries, oh, can’t you see, They’re a greasy parody! [banjo solo] [Sultry Banjo Loop, hypnotic vibes] [verse 3] Junk jokes, sarcastic and cheap, Proud mockers can’t go too deep. Logic’s lost, but punchlines soar, Souls unrefined, fries on the floor! [outro] In a land that’s lost its bite, Fries may never get it right. Freedom fries, forever spun, Greasy tales have just begun…