So, you've been to school
For a year or two
And you know you've seen it all
In daddy's car
Thinking you'll go far
Back east your type don't crawlPlaying ethnicky jazz
To parade your snazz
On your five-grand stereo
Braggin' that you know
How the niggers feel cold
And the slum's got so much soulIt's time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear
Brace yourself, my dearIt'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 wifeYou're a star-belly snitch
You suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch
So you can get rich
While your boss gets richer off youWell, 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 stakeNow you can go where the 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 are dressed in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crackPol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol PotIt's a holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll do what you're told
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul
Pol Pot
Songwriters
BRUCE SLESINGER, JELLO BIAFRA, KLAUS FLOURIDE, EAST BAY RAYPublished by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.