Igual, nadie entiende nada. (...)
Regalo ésta letra para quien pase por acá, y quiera llevarla en su cabeza lo que queda del día.
A veces es casi inevitable identificarse. Como un deber. Algunos domingos de marzo tienen esas cosas: el reputo deber de tener que identificarnos con algo, cuando nos sentimos idiotas.
Us and them:
Us (us... us... us...us...) and them (them...them...them...them...)
And after all we're only ordinary men.
Me (me...me...me...) and you (you...you...you...)
God only knows it's noz what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rearand the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it's only round and round.
Haven't you heard it's a battle of words The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
There's room for you inside.
"I mean, they're not gunna kill ya, so if you give 'em a quickshort, sharp, shock, they won't do it again. Dig it? I mean he get offlightly, 'cos I would've given him a thrashing - I only hit himonce!It was only a difference of opinion, but really...I mean goodmanners don't cost nothing do they, eh?"
Down and out
It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about.
And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?
Out of the way, it's a busy day
I've got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.
P.F. (The dark side of the moon, 1973)