The Final Cut

the post war dream

tell me true tell me why was Jesus crucified

is it for this that daddy died?

was it for you? was it me?

did i watch too much t.v.?

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 have we done?

your possible pasts

they flutter behind you your possible pasts

some brighteyed and crazy some frightened and lost

a warning to anyone still in command

of their possible future to take care

in derilict 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 thing 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"

do you remember me? how we used to be?

do you thing we should be closer?

by the cold and religious we were taken in hand

shown how to feel good and told to feel bad

tongue tied and terrified we learned how to pray

now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay

and strung out behind us the banners and flags

of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags

do you remember me? how we used to be?

do you thing we should be closer?

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

make them me, 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

'cos that's the only time that i can really talk to you

and there is something that i've locked away

a memory that is too painful

to withstand the light of day

when we came back from the war the banners and

flags hung on everyones door

we danced and we sang in the street and

the church bells rang

but burning in my heart

my memory smoulders on

of the gunners dying words on the intercom

the gunners dream

floating down through the clouds

memories come rushing up to meet me now

in the space between the heavens

and in the corner of some foreign field

i had a dream

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 tear drops 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

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

take heed

paranoid eyes

button your lip 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

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 alchohol 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

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 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

southampton dock

they disembarked in 45

and no one spoke and no one smiled

there were too many spaces in the line

gathered at the cenotaph

all agreed with hand on heart

to sheath the sacrificial knifes

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

and 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

and 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 oughta bare my naked feelings

thought i oughta 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

fuck all that we've got to get on with these

got to compete with the wily japanese

there's too many home fires burning

and not enough trees

so fuck all that

we've got to get on with these

cant stop lose job mind gone silicon

what bomb get away pay day make hay

break down need fix big six

clickity click hold on oh no brrrrrrrrrring bingo!

make em laugh make em cry make em dance in the aisles

make em pay make em stay make em feel ok

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 all about

as long as the kids go

not now john

got to get on with the show

hang on john

we've got to get on with this

i don't know what it is

but it fits on here like this ...........

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

fuck 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 lets go and show these

make us feel tough

and won't maggie be pleased

nah nah nah nah nah nah!

s'cusi dove il bar

se para collo pou eine toe bar

s'il vous plait ou est le bar

oi' where's the fucking bar john!

two suns in the sunset

in my rear view mirror the sun is going down

sinking behind bridges in the road

and i think of all the good things

that we have left undone

and i suffer premonitions

confirm suspicions

of the holocaust to come

the 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

hmmmmmmmmm

could be the human race is run

like the moment when your brakes lock

and you slide toward the big truck

and 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

my tears evaporate

leaving only charcoal to defend

finally i understand

the feelings of the few

ashes and diamonds

foe and friend

we were all equal in the end