Aces High Bulletin Board
		General Forums => The O' Club => Topic started by: Animal on April 15, 2002, 09:44:08 PM
		
			
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				Just change when it says mother to father.
 You help me calm my youth paranoia and angst.
 
 Mother (Pink Floyd)
 Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?
 Mother, do you think they'll like this song?
 Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?
 Ooooowaa , should I build a wall?
 
 Mother, should I run for President?
 Mother, should I trust the government?
 Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
 Ooooowaa Is it just a waste of time?
 
 Hush, my baby. Baby, don't you cry.
 Momma's gonna make all of your nightmares come true.
 Momma's gonna put all of her fears into you.
 Momma's gonna keep you right here under her wing.
 She won't let you fly, but she might let you sink.
 Momma's gonna keep Baby cozy and warm.
 Oooo Babe.
 Oooo Babe.
 Ooo Babe, of course Momma's gonna help build a wall.
 
 Mother, do you think she's good enough,
 For me?
 Mother, do you think she's dangerous,
 To me?
 Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
 Ooooowaa , will she break my heart?
 
 Hush, my baby. Baby, don't you cry.
 Momma's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
 Momma won't let anyone dirty get through.
 Momma's gonna wait up until you get in.
 Momma will always find out where you've been.
 Momma's gonna keep Baby healthy and clean.
 Oooo Babe.
 Oooo Babe.
 Ooo Babe, you'll always be Baby to me.
 
 Mother I didnt mean to be so high.
 
 
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				Ahhh floyd!! I'm touched ! ohh touch me again!! yessss... . again.... yesss...  ahem. sorry. 
 
 here's one fer just for you.. guess the title:
 
 
 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
- 
				So,
 So you think you can tell,
 Heaven from Hell,
 Blues skies from pain.
 
 Can you tell a green field,
 From a cold steel rail,
 A smile from a veil,
 Do you think you can tell?
 
 Floyd is the chit.
- 
				And did they get you to trade
 Your heros for ghosts?
 Hot ashes for trees?
 Hot air for a cool breeze?
 Cold comfort for change?
 And did you exchange
 A walk on part in the war
 For a lead role in a cage?
 
 How I wish, how I wish you were here.
 We're just two lost souls
 Swimming in a fish bowl,
 Year after year,
 Running over the same old ground.
 What have we found?
 The same old fears.
 Wish you were here.
 
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				Hello.
 Is there anybody in there?
 Just nod if you can hear me.
 Is there anyone home?
 
 Come on, now.
 I hear you're feeling down.
 Well I can ease your pain,
 Get you on your feet again.
 
 Relax.
 I need some information first.
 Just the basic facts:
 Can you show me where it hurts?
 
 
 There is no pain, you are receding.
 A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
 You are only coming through in waves.
 Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
 When I was a child I had a fever.
 My hands felt just like two balloons.
 Now I got that feeling once again.
 I can't explain, you would not understand.
 This is not how I am.
 I have become comfortably numb.
 
 
 Ok.
 Just a little pinsalamander.
 There'll be no more --Aaaaaahhhhh!
 But you may feel a little sick.
 
 Can you stand up?
 I do believe it's working. Good.
 That'll keep you going for the show.
 Come on it's time to go.
 
 
 There is no pain, you are receding.
 A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
 You are only coming through in waves.
 Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
 When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
 Out of the corner of my eye.
 I turned to look but it was gone.
 I cannot put my finger on it now.
 The child is grown, the dream is gone.
 I have become comfortably numb.
- 
				Post-Floyd Waters:
 
 You have a natural tendency
 To squeeze off a shot
 You're good fun at parties
 You wear the right masks
 You're old but you still
 Like a laugh in the locker room
 You can't abide change
 You're at home on the range
 You opened your suitcase
 Behind the old workings
 To show off the magnum
 You deafened the canyon
 A comfort a friend
 Only upstaged in the end
 By the Uzi machine gun
 Does the recoil remind you
 Remind you of sex
 Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
 Old timer who you gonna kill next
 I looked over Jordan and what did I see
 Saw a U.S. Marine in a pile of debris
 I swam in your pools
 And lay under your palm trees
 I looked in the eyes of the Indian
 Who lay on the Federal Building steps
 And through the range finder over the hill
 I saw the frontline boys popping their pills
 Sick of the mess they find
 On their desert stage
 And the bravery of being out of range
 Yeah the question is vexed
 Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
 Old timer who you gonna kill next
 Hey bartender over here
 Two more shots
 And two more beers
 Sir turn up the TV sound
 The war has started on the ground
 Just love those laser guided bombs
 They're really great
 For righting wrongs
 You hit the target
 And win the game
 From bars 3,000 miles away
 3,000 miles away
 We play the game
 With the bravery of being out of range
 We zap and maim
 With the bravery of being out of range
 We strafe the train
 With the bravery of being out of range
 We gained terrain
 With the bravery of being out of range
 With the bravery of being out of range
 We play the game
 With the bravery of being out of range
 
 If you like Floyd and haven't heard the album Amused To Death go out and get it tomorrow.
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				Seamus, that's the dog, is outside....
			
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				i dono...the lyrics just dont make it with out the music
			
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				I totally disagree. The words and the images they bring to mind are very powerful, and indeed stand alone well IMHO. In fact, that is the part of the music I like best. It ain't Britney singing about being adolescent... ;)
			
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				Wish You were Here is a beautiful song, I dedicated that one to mrfish when he left AH. 
 
 And Numb can be used to describe many moments in my life.
 
 Pink Floyd r0x0rz my world.
- 
				*sound of bong water bubbling*
 *coughs*
 
 I want to tell you a story
 About a little man
 If I can.
 A gnome named Grimble Grumble.
 And little gnomes stay in their homes.
 Eating, sleeping, drinking their wine.
 He wore a scarlet tunic,
 A blue green hood,
 It looked quite good.
 He had a big adventure
 Amidst the grass
 Fresh air at last.
 Wining, dining, biding his time.
 And then one day - hooray!
 Another way for gnomes to say
 Hoooooooooray.
 Look at the sky, look at the river
 Isn't it good?
 Look at the sky, look at the river
 Isn't it good?
 Winding, finding places to go.
 And then one day - hooray!
 Another way for gnomes to say
 Hoooooooooray.
 Hooooooooooooooray.
 
- 
				Guess I'll join in on the Floyd sing-a-long....
 
 One of these days I'm going to cut you into little pieces!!!!
 :eek:
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				The Final Cut IMO was the best album, just one long story. Of course Gunners Dream that Hangtime quoted is my favorite.
			
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				My favorite:
 
 Into the distance a ribbon of black
 Stretched to the point of no turning back
 A flight of fancy on a windswept field
 Standing alone my senses reeled
 A fatal attraction holding me fast
 How can I escape this irresistible grasp
 Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky
 Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth bound misfit, I.
 
 Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
 Unheeded warnings I thought I thought of everything
 No navigator to guide my way home
 Unfaded,empty and turned to stone
 A soul in tension that's learning to fly
 Condition grounded but determined to try
 Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky
 Tongue-tied and twisted just an earthbound misfit, I.
 
 Above the planet on a wing and a prayer
 My grubby halo, a vapour trail in empty sky
 Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
 Out of the corner of my watering eye
 A dream unthreatened by the morning light
 Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night
 There's no sensation to compare to this
 Suspended animation, a state of bliss
 Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky
 Tongue-tied and twisted just an earthbound misfit, I.
 
 Learning to Fly- Pink Floyd
 
 
 
 And Staga added this tidbit when I posted this:
 
 On the surface, the song is simply about Gilmour's experiences learning to fly aircraft (he now
 owns six historic aeroplanes). Anthony Moore was always hard at work, but Gilmour had a habit
 of showing up late at the studio, and his excuse was all too predictable. Dave would ring in and
 apologise, "I'm not coming in today, because I'm learning to fly."
 
 In a wider sense, the song was a metaphor for the fact that Gilmour himself was learning to pilot
 the Floyd. Now in control, he was experiencing a trepidation which he likened to the experience
 of going up solo in an aircraft. In the middle of the track you can hear Nick Mason, another flyer,
 going through his pre-flight checks with the control tower.
 
- 
				
 I've got a little black book with my poems in
 I've got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
 When I'm a good dog they sometime throw me a bone in
 I've got elastic bands keeping my shoes on
 Got those swollen hand blues
 Got thirteen channels of toejam on the TV to choose from
 I've got electric light
 And I've got second sight
 I've got amazing powers of observation
 And that is how I know
 When I try to get through
 On the telephone to you
 There'll be nobody home.
 
 I've got the obligatory Henrix perm
 And the inevitable pinhole burns
 All downthe front of my favorite satin shirt
 I've got nicotine stains on my fingers
 I've got a silver spoon on a chain
 I've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains
 I've got wild staring eyes
 And I've got a strong urge to fly
 But I've got nowhere to fly to
 Oooh Babe, when I pick up the phone
 There's still nobody home
 
 I've got a pair of Gohill's boots
 But I got rading roots.
 
- 
				Be careful with that ax, Eugene.... ARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHH
			
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				I love early Floyd, and almost hate Gilmour's "money making machine" after Roger left them.
 
 Can anyone tell me where this one was first published? I have it on "Early Singles" CD and on a bootleg MP3 called "Music for Architectural Students", from somewhere in Europe.
 
 
 Hey Eugene
 This is Henry McClean
 And I've finished my beautiful flying machine
 And I'm ringing to say
 That I'm leaving and maybe
 You'd like to fly with me
 And hide with me, baby
 
 Isn't it strange
 How little we change
 Isn't it sad we're insane
 Paying the games that we know and in tears
 The games we've been playing for thousands and thousands and thousands and...
 
 Pointing to cosmic glider
 Pull this plastic glider higher
 Light the fuse and stand right back
 
 He cried
 This is my last goodbey
 
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 
 And if you survive till two thousand and five
 I hope you're exceedingly thin
 For if you are stout you will have to breathe out
 While the people around you breathe in
 
 (When the man next to you can't breath in) - on another version
 
 People pressing on might say
 It's something that I hate to say
 I'm slipping down to eat the ground
 A little refuge on my brain
 
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 Point me at the sky and let it fly
 
 And all we've got to say to you is goodbey
 It's time to go, better run and get your bags
 It's goodbey
 Nobody cry, it's goodbey
 Crash, crash, crash, crash, goodbey...
 
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				I think it was released as a single in the UK, not on LP.
			
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				I agree that "The Final Cut" is PF's finest and perhaps the best produced ablum of all time.
 
 My faovorite is the seguay between Southhampton Dock  and this one
 
 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 minefields 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 all 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
 
 
 I also love the description of a nuclear trigger as:
 
 "the rusty wire that holds the cork that keeps the anger in."
 
 
 
 :) my finest LSD experiences were accompanied by Pink.
 
 
 F.
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				I agree that "The Final Cut" is PF's finest and perhaps the best produced ablum of all time.
 
 My favorite is the segue between Southhampton Dock  and this one
 
 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 minefields 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 all 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
 
 
 I also love the description of a nuclear trigger as:
 
 "the rusty wire that holds the cork that keeps the anger in."
 
 
 
 :) my finest LSD experiences were accompanied by Pink.
 
 
 F.
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				I've been dwelling on my own mortality alot lately, wishing I had back some of the days/weeks I spent doing absolutely nothing in my youth, and this song really hits home:
 
 Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
 You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
 Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
 Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.
 
 Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
 You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
 And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
 No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.
 
 So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
 Racing around to come up behind you again.
 The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
 Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
 
 Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
 Plans that either come to nought or half a page of scribbled lines
 Hanging on in quiet desparation is the English way
 The time is gone, the song is over,
 Thought I'd something more to say.
 
 
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				You guys are makin me nostalgic..........PF, LSD and Time to Kill.....those were the days.:cool:
			
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				Originally posted by Hangtime 
 in the corner of some foreign field
 
 
 Back in 1988, my college English 2 professor required us to write a paper based on a meaningful song. Of course I was going to do a Pink Floyd song, but which one? I knew he was a liberal democrat who supported Michael Dukakis for President, so I chose the "Gunner's Dream". The quoted line comes from a British poem from a WWI monument ("The Soldier?"). That poem happened to be my English teacher's all-time favorite which we were covering the following week. I got an A+ on the paper... and just about everything else I turned in after that.
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				pink floyd fans should check out roger waters: "amused to death"
 
 
 it has some super sweet tracks, "too much rope" being a personal favourite.
 
 if you can, get the version recorded in Q-sound.  it has some awesome audio effects and will make you puke if you have  a sweet surround set up.
 
 "when the sleigh is heavy, and the timber wolves are getting bold
 
 you look at you companion and test the water of your friendship with your toes...
 
 que sera sera, is that your new ferrari car (insert sweet drive by sound), nice, but i think i'll wait for the F50"
- 
				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 kind 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.
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				Oh my god....
 
 This is so touching. :rolleyes:
 
 
 :D
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				The beauty of Q-sound is that it was designed to sound like surround sound using conventional 2-speaker stereo systems.
 
 Amused to Death sounds great on any stereo, though walkman headsets can never quite handle the range of anything Roger Waters writes, whether it is anything from The Wall to his last theme album, Amused to Death.
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				........discovery is to be disowned, 
 our currency,
 is flesh and bone.
 we all have our dark side, to say the least
 and dealing in Death
 is the nature of the Beast
 one world, and it's a battle ground,
 one word, and we will smash it down........
 
 Pink Floyd rock!
 Once had a cover group called "Think Floyd"  do a concert at the hotel i was working in....it was amazing, a crowd that was usually at each others throats, or on the floor brawling....were all cross-legged on the floor in stunned silence...these guys were G.O.O.D..
 
 
 Nothing like havin a bong or two, putting Dellicate Sound of Thunder on really loud, and hitting the TA for a bit.
 Allmost without exception, by the time the cones kick in,Learning to Fly has played, and you have had a bit of a fly around, some fool will shoot at you without asking..............just as "Dogs of War" starts ;-)
 
 Pink Floyd....it's just SO easy to relate to, you cant help but love it.
  Blue
			
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				hopefully I didn't screw this up.  haven't heard the song in 6 or 7 years. (funny, since I quit smoking I  mysteriously quit listning to Floyd on a daily basis.)
 
 
 Day after day, as love turns gray
 Like the skin on a dying man
 
 And I have grown older
 And you have grown colder
 And nothing is very much fun...anymore
 
 And I.... feel
 One of my times coming on
 And I.... feel
 Cold as a razor blade
 Tight as tourniquet
 Dry as a funeral drum
 
 Run to the bedroom
 In the suitcase on the left you'll find my favorite ax
 Don’t look so frightened
 This is just a passing phase
 One of my bad days
 
 Would you like to watch TV
 Or get between the sheets
 Or contemplate the silent freeway
 
 Would you like something to eat?
 Would you like to learn to fly?
 Would you like to see me try?
 
 Why are you running away?