The Final Cut

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

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!

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

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?

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

"oi...get your filthy hands off my desert!"
"what 'e say?"

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