The Fletcher Memorial Home
Take all your overgrown infants away somewhereand build them a home, a little place of their own,The Fletcher MemorialHome for incurable tyrants and kings.
They can appear to themselves every dayon closed circuit TV,to make sure they're still real.It's only connection they feel.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcomeReagan and Haig, Mr. Begin and friend,Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley, Mr. Brezhnev and party,the ghost of McCarthyand the memories of Nixon.And now, adding color, a group of anonymousLatin American Meat packing glitterati.”
Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?They can polish their medals and sharpen their smilesand abuse themselves playing games for a while:Boom, boom, bang, bang, lie down you're dead.
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eyetheir favorite toy,They'll be good girls and boysin the Fletcher Memorial Homefor colonial wasters of life and limb.
Is everyone in?Are you having a nice time?Now the final solution can be applied!