Oh we know Janet Reno, we've seen her handiwork
If children are the issue, her method is scorched earth
Kill mothers holding babies, if daddy has a gun
And if they've got religion, just burn them everyone
A little boy from Cuba, no matter what his plight
Belongs to Fidel Castro, he has no human rights
We'll take the mental patients, the killers, and the thugs
We'll even take the smugglers of contraband and drugs
Just don't come here with children; possessions of the state
Cause once they've tasted freedom, they can't repatriate
Let's send him back with daddy, his mom just died in vain
We'll curry Castro's favor; the shrinks can wash the pain
It's too bad for Elian, so sad for Juan Miguel
They'll have to do their bonding within an island jail