He’s chewing on new lyrics like cerebral cud,
trying to separate the gravel from the mud.
Doing cryptographer’s research in the back of his head,
undercover homework from the bottom of his bed.
I used to think he was a rocket science guy,
but now he’s writing lyrics for the FBI.

He answered an ad in the Daily Farm News,
looking for a guy that would write some new blues.
It turns out the terrorists are all writing in code,
and the Feds want to jumpstart our own Mother Lode.
If we can break their code we can start to bring
a whole new economy to how Homeland Security oughta sing.

He’s doing research out in the yard,
trying to discover why feral cats have it so hard.
He’s about to develop a whole new beat
while watching two lizards split up their meat.
A band of crows in the road told him where to go,
and what kinda birdseed he ought to sow.
Between barley and the oats 
he’s gonna have a new breakthrough,
and get the Saudis to accept more IOUs.
I used to think he was a rocket science guy,
but now he’s writing lyrics for the FBI.

He’s studying Sanskrit and the words of Poe,
Geronimo, and the Eskimos. 
Even Palin’s got her own kinda brand
though it all fell apart in McCain’s Last Stand.
I used to think he was a rocket science guy,
but now he’s writing lyrics…for the FBI.