(Pink Floyd: "The Fletcher Memorial Home", aus dem Album "The Final Cut. A Requiem for the Post War Dream", 1983)
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. - ("Who's the bald chap?")
The ghost of McCarthy, the memories of Nixon. ("Goodbye!")
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 favorite 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.