The Final Cut
Track #10 | Time: 04:48 |
Composer: Waters | Report | Print | Up^ 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 priesthole
and if i'm in i'll tell you what's behind the wall
there's a kid who had a big hallucination
Get Your Filthy Hands off My Desert
Track #7 | Time: 01:16 |
Composer: Waters | Report | Print | Up^ The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die.
Life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long cold rest.
You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye:
Eighty years, with luck, or even less.
Southampton Dock
Track #9 | Time: 02:08 |
Composer: Waters | Report | Print | Up^ The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky:
A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers,
But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking
He's haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
In his youth or a dream, he can't be precise
He's chained forever to a world that's departed
It's not enough, it's not enough
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