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Pink Floyd

(Iš albumo The Dark Side Of The Moon)

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Pink Floyd - Alle Texte Von The Final Cut žodžiai

The Post War Dream

Tell me true, tell me why was Jesus crucified?
Is it for this that daddy died?
Was it you? Was it me?
Did I watch too much T.V.?
Is that a hint of accusation in your eyes?
If it wasn't for the Nips
Being so good at building ships,
The yards would still be open on the Clyde.
And it can't be much fun for them
Beneath the rising sun
With all their kids committing suicide.
What have we done, Maggie what have we done?
What have we done to England?
Should we shout, should we scream,
"What happened to the post war dream?"
Oh, Maggie,
Maggie what have we done?

Your Possible Pasts

They flutter behind you your possible pasts,
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost.
A warning to anyone still in command
Of their possible future, to take care.
In derelict sidings the poppies entwine
With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time.
Do you remember me, how we used to be,
Do you think we should be closer?

She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile
Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign.
Her cold eyes imploring the men in their maces
For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs.
Stepping up boldly one put out his hand.
He said, "I was just a child then, now I'm only a man."
Do you remember me, how we used to be,
Do you think we should be closer?

By the cold and religious we were taken in hand
Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad.
Strung out behind us the banners and flags
Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags.
Do you remember me, how we used to be,
Do you think we should be closer?

One Of The Few

When you're one of the few to land on your feet,
What do you do to make ends meet?
Make them mad, make them sad, make them add two and two.
Make them me, make them you, make them do what you want them to.
Make them laugh, make them cry, make them lie down and die.

The Hero's Return

Jesus, Jesus, what's it all about?
Trying to clout these little ingrates into shape.
When I was their age all the lights went out.
There was no time to whine or mope about.
And even now part of me flies over
Dresden at angels one five.
Though they'll never fathom it behind my
Sarcasm desperate memories lie.

Sweetheart, sweetheart are you fast asleep? Good.
'Cause that's the only time that I can really speak to you.
And there is something that I've locked away
A memory that is too painful
To withstand the light of day.
When we came back from the war the banners and
Flags hung on everyone's door.
We danced and we sang in the street and
The church bells rang.
But burning in my heart,
My memory smoulders on
Of the gunners dying words on the intercom.

The Gunner's Dream

Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now.
In the space between the heavens
And in the corner of some foreign field,
I had a dream,
I had a dream.

Goodbye Max, goodbye Ma.
After the service when you're walking slowly to the car
And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air,
You hear the tolling bell, and touch the silk in your lapel,
And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band,
You take her frail hand and hold on to the dream.

A place to stay, enough to eat,
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street.
Where you can speak out loud about your doubts and fears,
And what's more no-one ever disappears,
You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door.
You can relax on both sides of the tracks,
And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control,
And everyone has recourse to the law,
And no-one kills the children anymore.
No-one kills the children anymore.

Night after night, going round and round my brain,
His dream is driving me insane___________________.

In the corner of some foreign field,
The gunner sleeps tonight.
What's done is done.
We cannot just write off his final scene.
Take heed of his dream,
Take heed.

Paranoid Eyes

Button your lip and don't let the shield slip.
Take a fresh grip on your bullet proof mask.
And if they try to break down your disguise with their questions
You can hide, hide, hide,
Behind paranoid eyes.

You put on our brave face and slip over the road for a jar,
Fixing your grin as you casually lean on the bar.
Laughing too loud at the rest of the world
With the boys in the crowd.
You hide, hide, hide,
Behind petrified eyes.

You believed in their stories of fame, fortune and glory.
Now you're lost in a haze of alcohol soft middle age.
The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high.
And you hide, hide, hide,

Behind brown and mild eyes.

Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert

Brezhnev took Afghanistan.
Begin took Beirut.
Galtieri took the Union Jack.
And Maggie, over lunch one day,
Took a cruiser with all hands
Apparently to make him give it back.


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 Hag,
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley,
Mr. Brezhnev and party, the ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon. And now adding colour,
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 a while.
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead.

Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye,
With their favourite 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.

Southampton Dock

They disembarked in 45,
And no-one spoke and no-one smiled
There were to many spaces in the line.
Gathered at the cenotaph
All agreed with the hand on heart,
To sheath the sacrificial knives.
But now she stands upon Southampton dock
With her handkerchief
And her summer frock clings
To her wet body in the rain.
In quiet desperation knuckles
White upon the slippery reins
She bravely waves the boys goodbye again.

And still the dark stain spreads between
His shoulder blades.
A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves.
And when the fight was over
We spent what they had made.
But in the bottom of our hearts
We felt the final cut.

The Final Cut

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes____
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time.
And far from flying high in clear blue skies___,
I'm spiralling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.
If you negotiate the minefield in the drive,
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes,
And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priest hole
And if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream___?
And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side,
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone,
Would you send me packing,
Or would you take me home?

Thought I ought bare my naked feelings,
Thought I ought to tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands,
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang,
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.

Not Now John

Fuck all that we've got to get on with these
Gotta compete with the wily Japanese.
There's too many home fires burning
And not enough trees,
So fuck all that
We've got to get on with these.
Can't stop Lose job Mind gone Silicon
What bomb Get away Pay day Make hay
Break down Need fix Big six
Clickity click Hold on Oh no Brrrrrrrrrring bingo!

Make 'em laugh. Make 'em cry. Make 'em dance in the aisles.
Make 'em pay. Make 'em stay. Make'em feel ok.

Not nah John
We've got to get on with the film show.
Hollywood waits at the end of the rainbow.
Who cares what it's about

As long as the kids go.
Not now John
Got to get on with the show.

Hang on John we've got to get on with this.
I don't know what it is
But it fits on here like.....
Come at the end of the shift,
We'll go and get pissed.
But now, now John
I've got to get on with this.

Hold on John

I think there's something good on.
I used to read books but.....
It could be the news,
Or some other abuse,
Or it could be reusable shows.

Fuck all that we've got to get on with these
Got to compete with the wily Japanese.
No need to worry about the Vietnamese.
Got to bring the Russian bear to his knees.
Well, maybe not the Russian bear,
Maybe the Swedes.
We showed Argentina
Now let's go and show these.
Make us feel tough
And wouldn't Maggie be pleased?
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah!

Two Suns In The Sunset

In my rear view mirror the sun is going down,
Sinking behind bridges in the road
And I think of all the good things
That we have left undone
And I suffer premonitions,
Confirm suspicions,
Of the holocaust to come.

The wire that holds the cork
That keeps the anger in,
Gives way
And suddenly it's day again.
The sun is in the east
Even though the day is done.
Two suns in the sunset

Could be the human race is run.

Like the moment when the brakes lock
And you slide towards the big truck
You stretch the frozen moments with your fear.
And you'll never hear their voices,
And you'll never see their faces,
You have no recourse to the law anymore.

And as the windshield melts
My tears evaporate,

Leaving only charcoal to defend.
Finally I understand the feelings of the few.
Ashes and diamonds,
Foe and friend,
We were all equal in the end.

Išsakyk savo nuomonę!


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