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
|
mr. brezhnev and party
|
the ghost of mccarthy
|
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 any respect
|
they can polish their medals and sharpen their
|
smiles, and amuse 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
|
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?
|
now the final solution can be applied
|
|
-----------------
|
The Fletcher Memorial Home
|
| Pink Floyd |
