Pink Floyd
«Lyrics»

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 seat in the stand.

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.

Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.

You weel 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 our 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 pssing your time in the grassland away,

Only dimly aware