(Announced plans to build a nuclear fallout shelter at Peterborough in Cambridgeshire)
(Three high court judges have cleared the way)
(It was announced today, that the replacement for the Atlantic Conveyor
The container ship lost in the Falklands conflict would be built in Japan, a spokesman for)
(Moving in. They say the third world countries, like Bolivia
Which produce the drug are suffering from rising violence)
Tell me true, tell me why, was Jesus crucified
Was it for this that Daddy died?
Was it for you? Was it me?
Did I watch too much TV?
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 that 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 did we do?
Pink Floyd - The Final Cut Album Lyrics
Pink Floyd - The Final Cut Lyrics
Writer: George Waters
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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
"Ranks! Fire"
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? (Closer, closer, 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 macs
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? (Closer, closer, 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? (Closer, closer, closer)
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost
A warning to anyone still in command
"Ranks! Fire"
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? (Closer, closer, 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 macs
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? (Closer, closer, 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? (Closer, closer, closer)
Writer: George Roger Waters
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
One Of The Few
When you're one of the few
To land on your feet
What do you do to make ends meet?
(Teach)
Make 'em mad
Make 'em sad
Make 'em add two and two
Or make 'em me
Make 'em you
Make 'em do what you want them to
Make 'em laugh
Make 'em cry
Make 'em lay down and die
To land on your feet
What do you do to make ends meet?
(Teach)
Make 'em mad
Make 'em sad
Make 'em add two and two
Or make 'em me
Make 'em you
Make 'em do what you want them to
Make 'em laugh
Make 'em cry
Make 'em lay down and die
[ Thanks to leschfan1 for correcting these lyrics ]
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
When The Tigers Broke Free
It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.
And old King George
Sent Mother a note
When he heard that father was gone.
It was, I recall,
In the form of a scroll,
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp to remember
His Majesty signed
With his own rubber stamp.
It was dark all around.
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my daddy from me.
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Heroes 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 and 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
'cos that's the only time that i can really talk 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 everyones 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
trying to clout these little ingrates into shape
when i was their age all the lights went out
there was no time to whine and 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
'cos that's the only time that i can really talk 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 everyones 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
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Gunners 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
and 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 the dream
take heed
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
and 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 the dream
take heed
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Paranoid Eyes
button your lip 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 your 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 alchohol 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
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 your 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 alchohol 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
Writer: Roger Waters
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
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
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
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
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 Haig,
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher, and Paisly,
"Hello Maggie!"
Mr. Brezhnev and party.
"Who's the bald chap?"
The ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon.
"Good-bye!"
And now, adding color, 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 awhile.
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead.
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
With their favorite 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.
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 Haig,
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher, and Paisly,
"Hello Maggie!"
Mr. Brezhnev and party.
"Who's the bald chap?"
The ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon.
"Good-bye!"
And now, adding color, 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 awhile.
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead.
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
With their favorite 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.
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Southampton Dock
they disembarked in 45
and no one spoke and no one smiled
there were too many spaces in the line
gathered at the cenotaph
all agreed with hand on heart
to sheath the sacrificial knifes
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
and no one spoke and no one smiled
there were too many spaces in the line
gathered at the cenotaph
all agreed with hand on heart
to sheath the sacrificial knifes
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
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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 priesthole
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 oughta bare my naked feelings
thought i oughta 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
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
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 oughta bare my naked feelings
thought i oughta 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
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Not Now John
f*ck all that we've got to get on with these
got to compete with the wily japanese
there's too many home fires burning
and not enough trees
so f*ck all that
we've got to get on with these
cant 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 now john
we've got to get on with the film show
hollywood waits at the end of the rainbow
who cares what it's all 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 this ...
come at the end of the shift
we'll go and get pissed
but not 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
f*ck 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 lets go and show these
make us feel tough
and won't maggie be pleased
nah nah nah nah nah nah!
s'cusi dove il bar
se para collo pou eine toe bar
s'il vous plait ou est le bar
oi' where's the f*cking bar john!
got to compete with the wily japanese
there's too many home fires burning
and not enough trees
so f*ck all that
we've got to get on with these
cant 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 now john
we've got to get on with the film show
hollywood waits at the end of the rainbow
who cares what it's all 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 this ...
come at the end of the shift
we'll go and get pissed
but not 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
f*ck 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 lets go and show these
make us feel tough
and won't maggie be pleased
nah nah nah nah nah nah!
s'cusi dove il bar
se para collo pou eine toe bar
s'il vous plait ou est le bar
oi' where's the f*cking bar john!
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management
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
Hmm
Could be the human race is run.
Like the moment when the brakes lock
And you slide towards the big truck
"Oh no!"
"Daddy, Daddy!"
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.
"And now the weather. Tomorrow will be cloudy with scattered showers
Spreading from the east with an expected high of 4000 degrees
Celsius"
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
Hmm
Could be the human race is run.
Like the moment when the brakes lock
And you slide towards the big truck
"Oh no!"
"Daddy, Daddy!"
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.
"And now the weather. Tomorrow will be cloudy with scattered showers
Spreading from the east with an expected high of 4000 degrees
Celsius"
Writer: ROGER WATERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
The Final Cut (subtitled A Requiem for the Post War Dream) is the twelfth studio album by the English rock band Pink Floyd, released on 21 March 1983 through Harvest and Columbia Records.
It comprises unused material from the band's previous studio album, The Wall (1979), alongside new material recorded throughout 1982.
The Final Cut is the last Pink Floyd album to feature founding member Roger Waters, who departed from the band in 1985.
It is also the only Pink Floyd album not to feature founding member and keyboardist Richard Wright, who had left the band under pressure from Waters after the Wall sessions.
The recording was plagued by conflict; the guitarist, David Gilmour, felt many of the tracks were not worthy of inclusion, but Waters accused him of failing to contribute material himself. The contributions from the drummer, Nick Mason, were limited mostly to sound effects.
Waters planned the album as a soundtrack for the 1982 film adaptation of The Wall. With the onset of the Falklands War, he rewrote it as a concept album exploring what he considered the betrayal of his father, who died serving in the Second World War.
Waters provided lead vocals for all but one track, and he is credited for all songwriting. The album was accompanied by a short film released in the same year.
The Final Cut received mixed reviews, though retrospective reception has been more favourable. Though it reached number one in the UK and number six in the US, it was the lowest-selling Pink Floyd studio album worldwide since their sixth album, Meddle (1971).
Performed By:
Pink FloydIt comprises unused material from the band's previous studio album, The Wall (1979), alongside new material recorded throughout 1982.
The Final Cut is the last Pink Floyd album to feature founding member Roger Waters, who departed from the band in 1985.
It is also the only Pink Floyd album not to feature founding member and keyboardist Richard Wright, who had left the band under pressure from Waters after the Wall sessions.
The recording was plagued by conflict; the guitarist, David Gilmour, felt many of the tracks were not worthy of inclusion, but Waters accused him of failing to contribute material himself. The contributions from the drummer, Nick Mason, were limited mostly to sound effects.
Waters planned the album as a soundtrack for the 1982 film adaptation of The Wall. With the onset of the Falklands War, he rewrote it as a concept album exploring what he considered the betrayal of his father, who died serving in the Second World War.
Waters provided lead vocals for all but one track, and he is credited for all songwriting. The album was accompanied by a short film released in the same year.
The Final Cut received mixed reviews, though retrospective reception has been more favourable. Though it reached number one in the UK and number six in the US, it was the lowest-selling Pink Floyd studio album worldwide since their sixth album, Meddle (1971).
Genre(s): Art rock
Producer(s): Roger Waters, James Guthrie, Michael Kamen
Length: 43:14
Released: March 21st, 1983
Year: 1983