Love me some Pink Floyd, but I never thought that "Brick in the Wall" was their best poetry
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'till I'm sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
"I can't think of anything to say except...
I think it's marvellous! HaHaHa!"
@norman-oklahoma Brain Damage... hits too close to home for me
?ÿ
You??ve got to be crazy
Gotta have a real need
Got to sleep on your toes
When you??re on the street
Got to be able to pick up the easy meat
With your eyes closed
?ÿ
Then moving in silently
Downwind and out of sight
You??ve got to strike when the moment is right
Without thinking
?ÿ
And after a while
You can work on points for style
Like a club tie
And a firm handshake
A sudden look in the eye
And an easy smile
?ÿ
You??ve got 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
?ÿMy favorite Pink Floyd song. Intricate, lush guitar work, brilliant structure and flow. Maybe just a tad cynical ??ÿ
Careful with that axe Eugene!
Thanks for sharing that. I saw them twice in '87 - '88 and the second time they played that song, went into it out of Time just like on the record. We were sitting behind Richard Wright, and when the crowd cheered he kind of looked up and grinned like "yeah, we're gonna do it" lol. Of course, Clare Torry's rendition is absolutely remarkable.
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Free Four
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die.
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.
And maybe you'll make it to the top.
And mind how you go, and I can tell you, 'cause I know
You may find it hard to get off.
And I am the dead man's son.
And he was buried like a mole in a fox hole.
And everyone is still in the run.
And who says the hunt has begun?
And who calls the tune in the courtroom?
And who beats the funeral drum?
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom in the sickroom
And talk to yourself till you die.
What if I'm not a brick, what if I'm a 2x4x8' stud or some plaster, or some paint, then I wouldn't be just another brick in the wall, right?
Used to spend a lot of time looking at this (while listening to Dark Side). Reminded me of childhood summer days in England.
