Take all you overgrown infants away somewhere
And build them a home
A little place of their own
The Fletcher Memorial Home for incurable tyrants and kings
They can appear to themselves everyday
On closed circuit tv
To make sure they're still real
It's the only connection they feel
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome
Reagan and Haig, Mr Begin and friend
Mrs Thatcher and Paisley, Mr Brezhnev and party
The ghost of McCarthy
And the memories of Nixon
And now adding colour a group of anonymous Latin American
Meat packing glitterati"
Did they expect us to treat them with respect
They can polish their medals and sharpen their smiles
And abuse themselves playing games for a while
Boom, boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
Their favourite toy
They'll be good girls and boys
In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial wasters of life and limb
Is everyone in?
Are you having a nice time?
Now the final solution can be applied.