The Fletcher Memorial Home

Take all your 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 could appear to themselves every day
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
"Hello Maggie!"
Mr. Brezhnev and party
"Scusi dov'è il bar?"
The ghost of McCarthy
And the memories of Nixon
And now, adding colour
("Who's the bald chap?")
A group of anonymous Latin-American meat packing glitterati

Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?

They can polish their medals and sharpen their smiles
And amuse themselves playing games for awhile
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? (Goodbye!)
Now the final solution can be applied