Take

all

your

o-

ver-

grown

in-

fants

a-

way

some-

where

And

build

them

a

home,

a

lit-

tle

place

of

their

own.

The

Flet-

cher

Me-

mo-

ri-

al

Home

for

In-

cu-

rable

Ty-

rants

and

Kings.

They

can

ap-

pear

to

them-

selves

e-

very

day

On

closed

cir-

cuit

T.-

V.

To

make

sure

they're

still

real.

It's

the

on-

ly

con-

nec-

tion

they

feel.

La-

dies

and

gen-

tle-

men,

please

wel-

come,

Rea-

gan

and

Haig,

Mis-

ter

Be-

gin

and

friend,

Mis-

sis

That-

cher,

and

Pais-

ly,

Mis-

ter

Brezh-

nev

and

par-

ty.

The

ghost

of

Mc-

Car-

thy,

And

the

me-

mo-

ries

of

Ni-

xon.

And

now,

add-

ing

co-

lour,

a

group

of

a-

no-

ny-

mous

La-

tin-

A-

me-

ri-

can

meat

pack-

ing

gli-

tter-

a-

ti.

Did

they

ex-

pect

us

to

treat

them

with

a-

ny

res-

pect?

They

can

po-

lish

their

me-

dals

and

shar-

pen

their

Smiles,

and

a-

muse

them-

selves

play-

ing

games

for

a

while.

Boom

boom,

bang

bang,

lie

down

you're

dead.

Safe

in

the

per-

ma-

nent

gaze

of

a

cold

glass

eye

With their

fa-

vo-

rite

toys

They'll

be

good

girls

and

boys

In

the

Flet-

cher

Me-

mo-

ri-

al

Home

for

co-

lo-

ni-

al

Was-

ters

of

life

and

limb.

Is

e-

very-

one

in?

Are

you

hav-

ing

a

nice

time?

Now

the

fi-

nal

so-

lu-

tion

can

be

ap-

plied.