| The Final Cut Lyrics
The Post War Dream
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 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 did we do
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
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
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
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
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
Or make them me
Or 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 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
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
And 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
The memory smoulders on
Of the gunner's dying words on the intercom
The Gunner's Dream
Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now
But in the space between the heavens
And the corner of some foreign field
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 teardrops 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
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
Paranoid Eyes
Button your lip
And don't let the shield slip
Take a fresh grip on your bulletproof 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 alcohol-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
And 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 TV
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
Mr. Brezhnev and party
The ghost of McCarthy
And the memories of Nixon
And now adding colour
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 abuse 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
Their favourite toy
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
And gathered at the cenotaph
All agreed with hand on heart
To sheath the sacrificial knives
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
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 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
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 ought to bare my naked feelings
Thought I ought to 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
Not Now John
**** all that
We've got to get on with these
Got to compete with the wiley Japanese
There's too many home fires burning and not enough trees
So **** all that
We've got to get on with these
Can't stop
Lose job
Mind gone
Silicone
What bomb
Get away
Pay day
Make hay
Break down
Need fix
Big six
Clickity click
Hold on
Oh no
Bingo
Make 'em laugh
Make 'em cry
Make 'em dance in the aisles
Make 'em pay
Make 'em stay
Make 'em feel okay
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 about
As long as the kids go
So not now John
We've got to get on with the show
Hang on John
I've got to get on with this
I don't know what it is
But it fits on her like
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
**** 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 let's go and show these
Make us feel tough and wouldn't Maggie be pleased
S'cusi dove il bar
Se para collo pou eine toe bar
S'il vous plait ou est le bar
Oi! Where's the ****ing bar John
Two Suns in the Sunset
In my rear view mirror
The sun is going down
Sinking behind bridges in the road
I think of all the good things that we have left undone
And I suffer premonitions
Confirm suspicions of the holocaust to come
The rusty 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 and my tears evaporate
Leaving only charcoal to defend
Finally I'll understand the feelings of the few
Ashes and diamonds
Foe and friend
We were all equal in the end
Last edited by Botley : 04-25-2006 at 03:36 PM.
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