Roger Waters
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6:00
227
| Добавлена 1 сентября 2011 пользователем Iron Man |
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[Jim:] Oh, God!
[Californian Weirdo:] Sole has no eyes.
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 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
[Californian Weirdo:] Sole has no eyes.
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 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
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