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 can appear to themselves every day On closed circuit T.V. To make sure theyre still real. Its the only connection they feel. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Reagan and Haig, Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher, Mr. Paisley, Hello Maggie Mr. Brezhnev and party. Scusi dovè il bar? And the ghost of McCarthy, The memories of Nixon. 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 youre dead. Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye With their favorite toys Theyll 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. youtu.be/AqonCo0A68o?list=RDAqonCo0A68o
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 16:09:50 +0000