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 angels one five
Though they'll never fathom it behind my sarcasm
Desperate memories lie

Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep? Good
That's the only time that I can really speak to you
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 burning in my heart
The memory smolders on
Of the gunner's dying words on the intercom

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): George Roger Waters