Pink Floyd - Animals 1977 (Full Album) | Текст песни

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• Pink Floyd
• Animals 1977 (Full Album)

If you didn't care what happened to me,
And I didn't care for you
We would zig zag our way
through the boredom and pain

Occasionally glancing up through the rain
Wondering which of the buggers to blame
And watching for pigs on the wing.
You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need,
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed.
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.

And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake,
A certain look in the eye, and an easy smile.
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to,
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You'll get the chance to put the knife in.

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder,
You know it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older.
And in the end you'll pack, fly down south,
Hide your head in the sand.
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer.

And when you loose control, you'll reap the harvest that you've sown.
And as the fear grows,the bad blood slows and turns to stone.
And it's too late to loose the weight you used to need to throw around.
So have a good drown, as you go down all alone
Dragged down by the stone.

I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused,
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used.
Gotta stay awake,gotta try and shake of this creeping malaise.
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?

Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable and no-one has a real friend.
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner,
And everything's done under the sun,
And you believe at heart, everyone's a killer.

Who was born in a house full of pain,
Who was trained not to spit in the fan,
Who was told what to do by the man,
Who was broken by trained personnel,
Who was fitted with collar and chain,
Who was given a pat on the back,
Who was breaking away from the pack,
Who was only a stranger at home,
Who was ground down in the end,
Who was found dead on the phone,
Who was dragged down by the stone.
Who was dragged down by the stone

Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying 'keep on digging'
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find?
When you're down in the pig mine
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Bus stop rat bag, ha ha, charade you are
You fucked up old hag, ha ha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost worth a quick grin
You like the feel of steel
You're hot stuff with a hat pin
And good fun with a hand gun
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

Hey you Whitehouse, ha ha, charade you are
You house proud town mouse, ha ha, charade you are
You're trying to keep your feelings off the street
You're nearly a real treat
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
You gotta stem the evil tide
And keep it all on the inside
Mary you're nearly a treat
Mary you're nearly a treat
But you're really a cry.

Harmlessly passing your time in
the grassland away
Only dimly aware of a certain unease
in the air
You better watch out
There may be dogs about
I've looked over Jordan and I have seen
Things are not what they seem.

What do you get for pretending the danger's
not real
Meek and obedient you follow the leader
Down well trodden corridors into
the valley of steel
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes
Now things are really what they seem
No, this is no bad dream.

The Lord is my shepherd, I
shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green he leadeth me
the silent waters by
With bright knives he releaseth
my soul
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places
He converteth me to lamb cutlets
For lo,m he hath great power and great
hunger
When cometh the day we lowly ones
Through quiet reflection and great
dedication
Master the art of karate
Lo, we shall rise up
And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water.

Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck
with a scream
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into
the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The dogs are dead!
You better stay home
And do as you're told
Get out of the road if you want to grow old.

You know that I care what happens to you
And I know that you care for me
So I don't feel alone
Or the weight of the stone
Now that I've found somewhere safe
To bury my bone
And any fool knows a dog needs a home
A shelter from pigs on the wing

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