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§25 The dark side of the moon
Face the fear.
John
Admin
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Live 8 Floyd |
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I had never heard these two songs before Live 8. Captivating!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvhglatOE3E
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell, blue 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?
And did they get you to trade
your heroes 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 you found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Comfortably Numb (Gilmour, Waters)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wtiNzci1Wc
Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I'll 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, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
O.K.
Just a little pinprick.
There'll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good.
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
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.
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John
Admin
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Don't give up |
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Peter Gabriel, I believe, suffered from depression. This duet is with Kate Bush.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiCRZLr9oRw
Lyrics
In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail
No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
Ive changed my face, Ive changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose
Dont give up
cos you have friends
Dont give up
Youre not beaten yet
Dont give up
I know you can make it good
Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that wed be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn
Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground
Rest your head
You worry too much
Its going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Dont give up
Please dont give up
got to walk out of here
I cant take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That rivers flowing
That rivers flowing
Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs
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John
Admin
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Embracing Change |
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In the ebook,§25, this is the organisation referred to in the first paragraph. I thoroughly recommend the Embracing Change experience. I suggest start with the video.
www.embracingchange.org
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John
Admin
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John Betjeman - A Child Ill |
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John Betjeman wrote some quite stirring poetry. This is one of my chilling favoutites.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIvG7E9yndQ
I can't find this being read, but 'On a Portrait of a Deaf Man' by John Betjeman is the most chilling poem.
Try reading it out loud.
The kind old face, the egg-shaped head,
The tie, discreetly loud,
The loosely fitting shooting clothes,
A closely fitting shroud.
He liked old city dining rooms,
Potatoes in their skin,
But now his mouth is wide to let
The London clay come in.
He took me on long silent walks
In country lanes when young.
He knew the names of ev'ry bird
But not the song it sung.
And when he could not hear me speak
He smiled and looked so wise
That now I do not like to think
Of maggots in his eyes.
He liked the rain-washed Cornish air
And smell of ploughed-up soil,
He liked a landscape big and bare
And painted it in oil.
But least of all he liked that place
Which hangs on Highgate Hill
Of soaked Carrara-covered earth
For Londoners to fill.
He would have liked to say goodbye,
Shake hands with many friends,
In Highgate now his finger-bones
Stick through his finger-ends.
You, God, who treat him thus and thus,
Say "Save his soul and pray."
You ask me to believe You and
I only see decay.
More John Betjeman as I find it.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrXWyZBOtFA (poor quality)
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