Letra The Hero’s Return (Parts 1 and 2) - Pink Floyd
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 angel's one five
Though they'll never fathom it behind my sarcasm
Desperate memories lie
Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep? (Good)
'Cause that's the only time that I can really speak 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 everyone’s door
We danced and we sang in the street
And the church bells rang
But the burning in my heart
The memory smolders on
Of the gunner's dying words
On the intercom
Jesus Christ, I might as well be dead
I can't see how dangerous it must feel to me
Training human cogs for the machine
Without some shell-shocked lunatic like me
Bombarding their still soft shells
With sticks and stones that were lying around
In the pile of unspeakable
Feelings I'd found
When I turned back the stone
Turned over the stone
Of my own disappointment
Back home
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 angel's one five
Though they'll never fathom it behind my sarcasm
Desperate memories lie
Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep? (Good)
'Cause that's the only time that I can really speak 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 everyone’s door
We danced and we sang in the street
And the church bells rang
But the burning in my heart
The memory smolders on
Of the gunner's dying words
On the intercom
Jesus Christ, I might as well be dead
I can't see how dangerous it must feel to me
Training human cogs for the machine
Without some shell-shocked lunatic like me
Bombarding their still soft shells
With sticks and stones that were lying around
In the pile of unspeakable
Feelings I'd found
When I turned back the stone
Turned over the stone
Of my own disappointment
Back home
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