' boys In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial Wasters of life and limb Is everyone in? Are you having English time? (Big guy) Now final solution
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
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 this final scene
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
Get your filthy hands off my desert! What he say? Brezhnev took Afghanistan Begin took Beirut Galtieri took the Union Jack And Maggie over lunch one
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
pou eine toe bar (We got to get on) S'il vous plait ou est le bar (Got to get on, got to get on) {Say it in English finally!} Oi, where's the fucking
When you're one of the few to land on your feet what do you do to make ends meet? teach make 'em mad, make 'em sad, make 'em add two and two make 'em
Tell me true Tell me why was Jesus crucified? Was it for this that Daddy died? Was it you? Was it me? Did I watch too much TV? Is that a hint of accusation
voices (Daddy, Daddy) And you'll never see their faces You have no recourse to the law anymore As the windshield melts my tears evaporate Leaving only charcoal to defend Finally
They flutter behind you, your possible pasts Some bright eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost A warning to anyone still in command {Ranks! Fire!}
Jesus, Jesus, what's it all about? Trying a clout these little ingrates into shape When I was their age all the lights went out There was no time to whine
It was just before dawn One miserable morning in black '44 When the forward commander was told to sit tight When he asked that his men be withdrawn And
When you're one of the few to land on your feet What do you do to make ends meet? (Teach) Make 'em mad, make 'em sad, make 'em add two and two Or make
Button your lip And 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
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
Tulkojums: Pink Floyd. Final Cut.
