[Spoken]
In the summer of 1976 my older brother was kidnapped, and he was taken hostage and moved to a small village in the north of Iran where he was indoctrinated with Jihadi ideology. It was the best time of his life. And one spring day, he wrote me a letter detailing all of the triumphs and tribulations he had been through in 1979 when he stormed the U.S. Embassy. He took all those people hostage, and he hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right in front of them when he knew they couldn't have anything to eat. And he made it into the inner circle, and he just wanted me to know this:

[Sung]
The Ayatollah wears a wig, man
He shuts the door to his room
Beyond the gaze of his children
He combs his hair with a spoon
Oh, what a treat to lovely
In golden locks never shorn
We'll let them say we are ugly, oh
They've never seen us perform

We're gonna give them the good one
Gonna sink in our teeth
And when I bat my eyelids
The great Satan goes sweet, aww

And I'll sing goodnight, my sweet November darling
Oh, goodnight, my balance has finally failed
Oh, goodnight is everything you aren't
But I will see you here to scrutinize the scales

Oh, goodnight, my apple, my magician
Oh, goodnight, I'm leaping from the bridge
Oh, baby, goodnight, I am in no condition
For I give, and I give, yes I do