F ck You, John Fetterman (a song)
You showed up in a hoodie, said you'd fight for the poor Beat a TV doctor, man, we couldn't love you more You were tatted up and angry, you were everything we need Then you got to Washington and sold us out for clout on Fox News at speed You said you'd be different You said you'd be real Now you're confirming fascists And calling war "no big deal" Fuck you, John Fetterman You Carhartt-wearing con You ran left, governed right And you smile while people's kids get bombed Fuck you, John Fetterman From Braddock to the beltway, what a ride You traded every principle you had For a segment on Fox & Friends at five You confirmed Pam Bondi, you were literally the only one Every other Democrat said no, you said, "Sounds fun" You killed the War Powers vote, you were the single deciding voice Three Republicans found Jesus, you found a different choice Fifty-six percent of your state Said they don't want this war You said, "Operation Epic Fury!" Like a kid in a gift shop at the Army Corps Fuck you, John Fetterman Joe Lieberman in basketball shorts You "revere the market," cool While your voters can't afford a quart Of milk or gas or rent, but hey At least you kept the bombs on time You're a profile in courage, John If courage was a fucking war crime You call your base "anti-American" From a libertarian podcast set You called the left "communist" While cashing progressive checks You won't say "fascist," that's uncouth But you'll greenlight a bombing run The bravest thing you ever did Was wear shorts to the Senate, hon Remember when you had a stroke and every right-wing hack Said you were brain-damaged and broken and you'd never make it back? Remember who showed up for you? Who phonebanked? Who believed? We sent you twenty-five bucks we didn't have and now we're feeling pretty deceived Fuck you, John Fetterman You bipartisan little fraud You've been on Fox more than Hannity And you think that makes you broad Fuck you, John Fetterman From every door we knocked, every call we made You used the progressive vote to get the gig Then you let every single promise fade And the funniest part, the part that really kills me Is he still wears the hoodie Like he's one of us Buddy, that hoodie doesn't make you working class It makes you a cosplayer With a Senate salary And a hard-on for Lockheed Martin Fuck you, John Fetterman Fuck you very much
Lyrics and guitar by Robin