So, you've 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 poor folk feel cold

And the slums got so much soul

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 crack

Pol... Pot!

Pol... Pot!

Pol... Pot!

Pol... Pot!

Pol Pot!