| So you been to school
|
| For a year or two
|
| And you know you’ve seen it all
|
| In daddy’s car
|
| Thinkin' you’ll go far
|
| Back east your type don’t crawl
|
| Play ethnicky jazz
|
| To parade your snazz
|
| On your five grand stereo
|
| Braggin' that you know
|
| How the suckers feel cold
|
| And the slums got so much soul
|
| It’s time to taste what you most fear
|
| Right guard will not help you here
|
| Brace yourself, my dear
|
| Brace yourself, my dear
|
| It’s a holiday in Cambodia
|
| It’s tough, kid, but it’s life
|
| It’s a holiday in Cambodia
|
| Don’t forget to pack a wife
|
| You’re a star-belly sneech
|
| You suck like a leech
|
| You want everyone to act like you
|
| Kiss ass while you bitch
|
| So you can get rich
|
| But your boss gets richer off you
|
| Well you’ll work harder
|
| With a gun in your back
|
| For a bowl of rice a day
|
| Slave for soldiers
|
| Till you starve
|
| Then your head is skewered on a stake
|
| Now you can go where people are one
|
| Now you can go where they get things done
|
| What you need, my son
|
| What you need, my son
|
| Is a holiday in Cambodia
|
| Where people dress in black
|
| A holiday in Cambodia
|
| Where you’ll kiss ass or crack
|
| Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, etc
|
| And it’s a holiday in Cambodia
|
| Where you’ll do what you’re told
|
| A holiday in Cambodia
|
| Where the slums got so much soul |