The Fletcher Memorial Home - Pink Floyd

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

And they can appear to themselves every day

On closed circuit T. V

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,

The memories of Nixon.

«Who's the bald chap?»

«Good-bye!»

And now, adding colour

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

With their favourite toys

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