The Fletcher Memorial Home

[Vankleek Hill Seagull]

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

(c) Roger Waters

 

[Cheeky Monkey]

It was just before dawn one miserable morning
in black forty-four
when the forward commander was told to sit tight
when asked that his men be withdrawn
And the generals gave thanks as the other ranks
held be the enemy tanks - for a while
And then the Anzio beachhead 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 golden 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 noone 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

 

[jevs]

It was just before dawn one miserable morning
in black forty-four
when the forward commander was told to sit tight
when asked that his men be withdrawn
And the generals gave thanks as the other ranks
held be the enemy tanks - for a while
And then the Anzio beachhead 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 golden 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 noone 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

Makes me cry every time i hear that song

 

[Cheeky Monkey]

Makes me cry every time i hear that song

Yeah, about the death of Water's dad I've just found out.

 

[Woodchip]

Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now.
But in the space between the heavens
and the corner of some foreign field
I had a dream.
I had a dream.
Good-bye Max.
Good-bye 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
"Oi! A real one ..."
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 his dream.
Take heed.

 

[wadhurstseagull]

Bring the boys back home........

 

[Eggmundo]

Genius:

5:06 am

[Waitress:] You wanna cup of coffee?
[Customers:] Heh, Turn that f***ing juke box down
You want to turn down that juke box....loud in here
[Waitress:] I'm sorry, would you like a cup of coffee?
Ok, you take cream and sugar? Sure.
In truck stops and hamburger joints
In Cadillac limousines
In the company of has-beens
And bent-backs
And sleeping forms on pavement steps
In libraries and railway stations
In books and banks
In the pages of history
In suicidal cavalry attacks
I recognise...
Myself in every stranger's eyes
And in wheelchairs by monuments
Under tube trains and commuter accidents
In council care and county courts
At Easter fairs and sea-side resorts
In drawing rooms and city morgues
In award winning photographs
Of life rafts on the China seas
In transit camps, under arc lamps
On unloading ramps
In faces blurred by rubber stamps
I recognise...
Myself in every stranger's eyes
And now, from where I stand
Upon this hill
I plundered from the pool
I look around
I search the skies
I shade my eyes
So nearly blind
And I see signs of half remembered days
I hear bells that chime in strange familiar ways
I recognise...
The hope you kindle in your eyes
It's oh so easy now
As we lie here in the dark
Nothing interferes, it's obvious
How to beat the tears
That threaten to snuff out
The spark of our love

 

[northstandnorth]

ROGER WATERS
The Bravery Of Being Out Of Range

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 an 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





he might write great lyrics but he is still a two faced fox hunting bastard though

 

[33057 Seagull]

ROGER WATERS

he might write great lyrics but he is still a two faced fox hunting bastard though

Well his mother was a member of CND & allegedly the communist party - he went on the Aldermaston Marches. He was the only song writer to my knowledge to attack Thatcher in lyrics, being very anti the Falklands War (making a whole album out of it). He had a pop at Reagan, Bush, Whitehouse & in fact many other has been politicians yet he of late supports the Countryside Alliance. Both at the rally in London & few years ago & then does a benefit along with Clapton, members of Genesis etc. this weekend gone.

Genesis were always crap & were never in a position to compromise but I'm really surprised Waters has now sold out to this extent. Sure there are some better causes than this?

 

[northstandnorth]

yes but the chattering classes are the only ones likely to be interested in his "opera"so he sucks up to them

he is upper middle class from birth

and the working classes will pay to subsidise the seats at the royal opera house (and any other venue it gets aired at)through grants to "ARTS"from the lottery fund


aint no pink floyd/waters fan going to want it in their album collection.

 

[33057 Seagull]

Upper Middle class - I don't think so - his mum was a state school teacher & his dad was a concientious objector who then signed up as a medic & got killed. Probably aspiring middle class - if there is such a thing as a class sytem?

 

[northstandnorth]

i think rog would be the first to accept the existance of a class system.he railed against it in his lyrics often enough.as for aspiring middle class? he is a university drop out(architect school)and you didn't get to do that from secondary moderns.
his father was an officer and very few shopkeepers kids made it into sandhurst
enough floyd money(pre dark side)was spent providing social housing(like all good middle class philantrophists)

after dark side/first divorce of course he decided to keep his share for himself

 

[northstandnorth]

HOME
Could be Jerusalem, or it could be Cairo
Could be Berlin, or it could be Prague
Could be Moscow, could be New York
Could be Llanelli, and it could be Warrington
Could be Warsaw, and it could be Moose Jaw
Could be Rome
Everybody got somewhere they call home
When they overrun the defences
A minor invasion put down to expenses
Will you go down to the airport lounge
Will you accept your second class status
A nation of waitresses and waiters
Will you mix their martinis
Will you stand still for it
Or will you take to the hills

It could be clay and it could be sand
Could be desert
Could be a tract of arable land
Could be a house, could be a corner shop
Could be a cabin by a bend in the river
Could be something your old man handed down
Could be something you built on your own
Everybody got something he calls home

When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
On each other at noon
In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
Will you stand by a passive spectator
Of the market dictators
Will you discreetly withdraw
With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
Will you hear when the lion within you roars
Will you take to the hills

Will you stand, will you stand for it
Will you hear, ohhhh! ohhh! when the lion within
you roars

Could be your father and it could be your mother
Could be your sister, could be your brother
Could be a foreigner, could be a Turk
Could be a cyclist out looking for work. Norman
Could be a king, could be the Aga khan
Could be a Vietnam vet with no arms and no legs
Could be a saint, could be a sinner
Could be a loser or it could be a winner
Could be a banker, could be a baker
Could be a Laker, could be Kareem Abdul Jabar
Could be a male voice choir
Could be a lover, could be a fighter
Could be a super heavyweight, or it could be
something lighter
Could be a cripple, could be a freak
Could be a wop, gook, geek
Could be a cop, could be a thief
Could be a family of ten living in one room on relief
Could be our leaders in their concrete tombs
With their tinned food and their silver spoons
Could be the pilot with God on his side
Could be the kid in the middle of the bomb sight
Could be a fanatic, could be a terrorist
Could be a dentist, could be a psychiatrist
Could be humble, could be proud
Could be a face in the crowd
Could be the soldier in the white cravat
Who turns the key in spite of the fact
That this is the end of the cat and mouse
Who dwelt in the house
Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
The house that Jack built
Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
The house that Jack built
Bang, bang, shoot, shoot
White gloved thumb, Lord thy will be done
He was always a good boy his mother said
He'll do his duty when he's grown, yeah
Everybody's got someone they call home

 

[Safeway]

HOME
Could be Jerusalem, or it could be Cairo
Could be Berlin, or it could be Prague
Could be Moscow, could be New York
Could be Llanelli, and it could be Warrington
Could be Warsaw, and it could be Moose Jaw
Could be Rome
Everybody got somewhere they call home
When they overrun the defences
A minor invasion put down to expenses
Will you go down to the airport lounge
Will you accept your second class status
A nation of waitresses and waiters
Will you mix their martinis
Will you stand still for it
Or will you take to the hills

It could be clay and it could be sand
Could be desert
Could be a tract of arable land
Could be a house, could be a corner shop
Could be a cabin by a bend in the river
Could be something your old man handed down
Could be something you built on your own
Everybody got something he calls home

When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
On each other at noon
In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
Will you stand by a passive spectator
Of the market dictators
Will you discreetly withdraw
With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
Will you hear when the lion within you roars
Will you take to the hills

Will you stand, will you stand for it
Will you hear, ohhhh! ohhh! when the lion within
you roars

Could be your father and it could be your mother
Could be your sister, could be your brother
Could be a foreigner, could be a Turk
Could be a cyclist out looking for work. Norman
Could be a king, could be the Aga khan
Could be a Vietnam vet with no arms and no legs
Could be a saint, could be a sinner
Could be a loser or it could be a winner
Could be a banker, could be a baker
Could be a Laker, could be Kareem Abdul Jabar
Could be a male voice choir
Could be a lover, could be a fighter
Could be a super heavyweight, or it could be
something lighter
Could be a cripple, could be a freak
Could be a wop, gook, geek
Could be a cop, could be a thief
Could be a family of ten living in one room on relief
Could be our leaders in their concrete tombs
With their tinned food and their silver spoons
Could be the pilot with God on his side
Could be the kid in the middle of the bomb sight
Could be a fanatic, could be a terrorist
Could be a dentist, could be a psychiatrist
Could be humble, could be proud
Could be a face in the crowd
Could be the soldier in the white cravat
Who turns the key in spite of the fact
That this is the end of the cat and mouse
Who dwelt in the house
Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
The house that Jack built
Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
The house that Jack built
Bang, bang, shoot, shoot
White gloved thumb, Lord thy will be done
He was always a good boy his mother said
He'll do his duty when he's grown, yeah
Everybody's got someone they call home

Radio Kaos is AMAZING.

 

[northstandnorth]

true safeway true certainly his best solo album(although the final cut comes close and is as good as a solo album for the amount of input the others had.rick wright was sacked by then)

 

[33057 Seagull]

Agree Radio Kaos is got to be his best. Although Amused to Death was a lot more cutting against George Bush senior & the first Iraq War 1.

 

[northstandnorth]

sorry about the pacifist father bit too but some pacifists will fight if the cause is true enough.his father was an officer not a medic


Roger Waters' father, Eric Fletcher Waters, was a soldier in City of London Regiment of the Royal Fusiliers and was killed in combat during the Anzio Campaign that had aimed to capture Rome in 1944. Due to being ordered by their generals to hold the beach instead of quickly moving inland, the German army were able to rebuild their defences and, when subsequently ordered to take Rome, the allied infantry were slaughtered in one of the bloodiest battles of the Second World War.

 

[33057 Seagull]

Having checked contrary to comments expressed earlier Eric Flecher Waters would not have gone to Sandhurst.

Born in 1913 and went to school in Bishop Auckland, County Durham, before winning a scholarship to Durham University. He was both a communist and a pacifist & despite being conscripted initially refused to serve. I read somewhere that he joined up in 1942/43 & having a university degree held the rank of Second Lieutenant, serving in Company C of the 8th Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment).

He died in action at Anzio on February 18, 1944, and is commemorated on Panel 5 of the Cassino Memorial, suggesting that his body was never found.

 

[northstandnorth]

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

 

[Eggmundo]

Now we are talking