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The Final Cut


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The Final Cut
The Post War Dream
Your Possible Pasts
One Of The Few
The Hero's Return
The Gunners Dream
Paranoid Eyes
Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert
The Fletcher Memorial Home
Southampton Dock
The Final Cut
Not Now John
Two Suns in the Sunset

The Fletcher Memorial Home

(Das Fletcher-Gedenk-Heim)


Text: Waters
Musik: Waters
Vocals: Waters
aus: The Final Cut    (21.03.1983)

Bearbeiter: KatzenHai, so.iss.das
Stand:       03.08.2019 21:59:19


The Fletcher Memorial Home

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 Paisly."

"Hello Maggie!"
Mr. Brezhnev and party.
"Who's the bald chap?"
The ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon.
"Goodbye!"
And now, adding color, 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 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.



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