the fletcher memorial home

[dopediana]

dig these lyrics here:




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
mr. brezhnev and party
the ghost of mccarthy
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 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






teeeerrific

[DaCuBaN]

I'm glad to see Pink Floyd will live on :cool:

My personal favourite has always been:

'For long you live and high you fly,
smiles you give and tears you cry,
all you touch and all you see,
is all your life will ever be.

Run rabbit run,
dig that hole forget the sun, l
eave but don't leave me,
look around choose your own ground.

For long you live and high you fly,
only if you ride the tide,
balanced on the biggest wave,
you race toward an early grave...'

To me, it's just one of those songs that gives that feeling of teetering on the brink of something... like when you try to grasp the expansiveness of the universe...

[Ian]

About his fathers death--

PINK FLOYD - 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When he asked that his men be withdrawn.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.

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.

[Sabocat]

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