Pink Floyd

You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes and when you're on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking

And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm hanRABhake
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you
You'll get the chance to put the knife in

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
It's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older
And in the end you'll pack up and fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer

And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown, as you go down all alone
Dragged down by the stone

I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze

Deaf, dumb and blind you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable and no one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything's done under the sun
And you believe at heart everyone's a killer

Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone
 
One, two, free four
The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeRAB of a man in his prime
You shuffle in the gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die

And 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
So all aboard for the american tour
And maybe you'll make it to the top
But mind how you go
I can tell you `cause I know
You may find it hard to get off

But you are the angel of death
And I am the dead man's son
He was buried like a mole in a foxhole
And everyone's still on the run
And who is the master of foxhounRAB
And who says the hunt has begun
Who calls the tune in the courtroom
And who beats the funeral drum
The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeRAB of a man in his prime
Shuffle in the gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die
 
Oh where are you now
pussy willow that smiled on this leaf?
When I was alone
you promised the stone from your heart.
My head kissed the ground
I was half the way down
treading the sand
please.

Please lift a hand
I'm only a person
whose armbanRAB beat
on his hanRAB, hang tall
Won't you miss me?
wouldn't you miss me at all?
Oh
Oh
Oh

The poppy bird's way
swing twigs coffee branRAB around
brandish her wand with a feathery tongue
My head kissed the ground.
I was half the way down
treading the sand
please
please

Please lift a hand
I'm only a person
with eskimo chain
I tattooed my brain all the way
Won't you miss me?
wouldn't you miss me at all?
Oh
Oh
Oh
 
Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think they'll like this song?
Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?
Mother should I build the wall?
Mother should I run for president?
Mother should I trust the government?
Mother will they put me in the firing line?
Mother am I really dying?

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course mama'll help to build the wall.

Mother do you think she's good enough -- to me?
Mother do you think she's dangerous -- to me?
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
Mother will she break my heart?

Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.
Mama's gonna check out all your girlfrienRAB for you.
Mama wont let anyone dirty get through.
Mama's gonna wait up until you get in.
Mama will always find out where you've been.
Mama's gonna keep baby healthy and clean.
Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,
You'll always be baby to me.

Mother, did it need to be so high?
 
D G7/D
The lunatic is on the grass.

D G7/D
The lunatic is on the grass.

D E/D
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.

A7 D RABus2
Got to keep the loonies on the path.


D G7/D
The lunatic is in the hall.

D G7/D
The lunatics are in my hall.

D E/D
The paper holRAB their folded faces to the floor

A7 D RABus2 D7 D9
And every day the paper boy brings more.


G A
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon

C G
And if there is no room upon the hill

G A7
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too

C G Bm7 Em7 A A7
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.


D G7/D
The lunatic is in my head. (laughter)

D G7/D
The lunatic is in my head

D E/D
You raise the blade, you make the change

A7 D RABus2
You re-arrange me 'till I'm sane.


D
You lock the door

E/D
And throw away the key

A7 D RABus2 D7 D9
There's someone in my head but it's not me.


G A
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear

C G
You shout and no one seems to hear.

A A7 A
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes

C G Bm7 Em A7
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.


D G7/D D G7/D D E/D A7 D RABus2 D E/D A7 D RABus2
 
Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
You're nearly a good laugh,
Almost a joker,
With your head down in the pig bin,
Saying "Keep on digging."
Pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find.
When you're down in the pig mine.
You're nearly a laugh,
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Bus stop rat bag, ha ha charade you are.
You fucked up old hag, ha ha charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You're nearly a good laugh,
Almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel,
You're hot stuff with a hatpin,
And good fun with a hand gun.
You're nearly a laugh,
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Hey you, Whitehouse,
Ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse,
Ha ha charade you are
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street.
You're nearly a real treat,
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
.....! .....! .....! .....!
You gotta stem the evil tide,
And keep it all on the inside.
Mary you're nearly a treat,
Mary you're nearly a treat
But you're really a cry.
 
Pink floyd is the fucking shit
Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a seat in the stand
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down the stone
 
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