PINK FLOYD: The Final Cut (1983)

1. The Post War Dream
2. Your Possible Pasts
3. One Of The Few
4. The Hero's Return
5. The Gunner's Dream
6. Paranoid Eyes
7. Get Your Filthy Hand Off My Desert
8. The Fletcher Memorial Home
9. Southampton Dock
10. The Final Cut
11. Not Now John
12. Two Suns In The Sunset

THE POST WAR DREAM

Tell me true, tell me why, was Jesus crucified

Is it for this that Daddy died?

Was it for 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 brighteyed 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 shoud 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 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?

By the cold and religious we were taken in hand

Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad.

And 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?

Teach.

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 begind 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 foreigh 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 whats 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 his dream.
Take heed.

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 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 can 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.

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 Haig,

Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley (Hello Maggie)
Mr. Brezhnev and party (Who's the bald chap?

the ghost of McCarthy

and the memories of Nixon

and now adding colour a group of anonymous latinamerican 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 too many spaces in the line

Gathered at the cenotaph

all agreed with the 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

Their 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 spiraling 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 shotguns 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 butjust 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 go to get on with these.

(Gotta get on with these!)

Can't stop
Lose job
Mind gone
Silicon
Stroll on
What bomb?
Get away
Pay day
Make hay
Break down
Need fix
Big six
Click click
Hold on
Oh no
Bingo! (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 gotta 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?
So, Not now John we've gotta get on with the show.

(ooooo, Noooo!, Gotta get on, Gotta get on)

Hang on John I've got to get on with this.
I don't know what it is but it fits on here like Hssss
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 amusement
Or it could be reusable shows.

Fuck all that we've got to get on with these
Gotta 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!

Whooh!

One! Two! Free! Four!
(Not now John we've gotta get on)

"scusi dov'è il bar
(What?)
se para collo pou eine toe bar
s'il vous plait ou est le bar
oi, where's the fucking bar John?
(Oh, now you're talking!)"
Oh! Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the day
Down!
Go, Maggie! Hammer, Hammer, Hammer, Hammer, now!

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 rust 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