The Final Cut

A Requiem for the Post War Dream

Release date: March 21st, 1983

Total Playing Time: 43'14

Recorded at: Mayfair, Olimpic, Abbey Road, Audio International, RAK, Hookend and The Billiard Room Studios (July-December 1982)

Dedicated to Eric Fletcher Waters (1913-1944)



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The Post War Dream (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

Your Possible Pasts (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

One of the Few (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

The Hero's Return (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

The Gunners Dream (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

Paranoid Eyes (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

The Fletcher Memorial Home (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

Southampton Dock (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

The Final Cut (Waters) Vocals by Waters.

Not Now John (Waters) Vocals by Gilmour and Waters ("Make em.., Hold on John").

Two Suns in the Sunset (Waters) Vocals by Waters.



David Gilmour: Vocals, Guitars

Nick Mason: Drums

Roger Waters: Bass Guitar, Vocals

Michael Kamen: Piano, Harmonium

Andy Brown: Organ

Ray Cooper: Percussion

Raphael Ravenscroft: Tenor Sax

Andy Newmark: Drums on "Two Suns In The Sunset"

The National Philarmonic Orchestra with Michael Kamen: Orchestration




The Post War Dream (Waters)

[Car sound, switching on of car radio]

"...announced plans to build a nuclear fallout shelter at Peterborough in Cambridgeshire..."

[phzzt! of retuning]

"...three high court judges have cleared the way..."


"...It was announced today, that the replacement for the Atlantic

Conveyor the container ship lost in the Falklands conflict would be

built in Japan, a spokesman for..."


"...moving in. They say the third world countries, like Bolivia, which

produce the drug are suffering from rising violence...[fades]"


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?



Your Possible Pasts (Waters)

They flutter behind you your possible pasts,

Some brighteyed and crazy, some frightened and lost.

A warning to anyone still in command

[Cattle truck noises]

"Ranks! Fire!"

Of their possible future, to take care.

In derelict sidings the poppies entwine

With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time.


Do you remember me? How we used to be?

Do you think we shoud be closer?


She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile

Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign.

Her cold eyes imploring the men in their macs

For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs.

Stepping up boldly one put out his hand.

He said, "I was just a child then, now I'm only a man."


Do you remember me? How we used to be?

Do you think we should be closer?


By the cold and religious we were taken in hand

Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad.

Tongue tied and terrified we learned how to pray

Now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay.

And strung out behind us the banners and flags

Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags.


Do you remember me? How we used to be?

Do you think we should be closer?



One of the Few (Waters)

When you're one of the few to land on your feet

What do you do to make ends meet?


Make them mad, make them sad, make them add two and two.

Make them me, make them you, make them do what you want them to.

Make them laugh, make them cry, make them lie down and die.



The Hero's Return (Waters)

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 or 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.

'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 burning in my heart

My memory smoulders on

Of the gunners dying words on the intercom.



The Gunner's Dream (Waters)

Floating down through the clouds

Memories come rushing up to meet me now.

In the space between the heavens

and in the corner of some foreigh field

I had a dream.

I had a dream.

Goodbye Max.

Goodbye Ma.

After the serng 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 whats 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.



Paranoid Eyes (Waters)

Button your lip. Don't let the shield slip.

Take a fresh grip on your bullet proof mask.

And if they try to break down your disguise with their questions

You can hide, hide, hide,

"I'll tell you what, I'll give you three blacks, and play you for five ..."

"Ta! You was unlucky there son"

"Time gentleman!"

Behind paranoid eyes.


You put on our brave face and slip over the road for a jar.

Fixing your grin as you casually lean on the bar,

Laughing too loud at the rest of the world

With the boys in the crowd

You hide, hide, hide,

Behind petrified eyes.

You believed in their stories of fame, fortune and glory.

Now you're lost in a haze of alchohol soft middle age

The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high.

And you hide, hide, hide,

Behind brown and mild eyes.





Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert (Waters)

"Oi...Get your filthy hands off my desert!"

"What 'e say?"


Brezhnev took Afghanistan.

Begin took Beirut.

Galtieri took the Union Jack.

And Maggie, over lunch one day,

Took a cruiser with all hands.

Apparently, to make him give it back.



The Fletcher Memorial Home (Waters)

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 Paisly,

"Hello Maggie!"

Mr. Brezhnev and party.

"Who's the bald chap?"

The ghost of McCarthy,

The memories of Nixon.


And now, adding color, 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 awhile.

Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead.


Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye

With their favorite 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.



Southampton Dock (Waters)

They disembarked in 45

And no-one spoke and no-one smiled

There were to many spaces in the line.

Gathered at the cenotaph

All agreed with the hand on heart

To sheath the sacrificial Knifes.

But now

She stands upon Southampton dock

With her handkerchief

And her summer frock clings

To her wet body in the rain.

In quiet desperation knuckles

White upon the slippery reins

She bravely waves the boys goodbye again.


And still the dark stain spreads between

His shoulder blades.

A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves.

And when the fight was over

We spent what they had made.

But in the bottom of our hearts

We felt the final cut.



The Final Cut (Waters)

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes

I can barely define the shape of this moment in time

And far from flying high in clear blue skies

I'm sprialling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.


If you negotiate the minefield in the drive

And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes

And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall,

Dial the combination, open the priesthole

And if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall.


There's a kid who had a big hallucination

Making love to girls in magazines.

He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith.

Could anybody love him

Or is it just a crazy dream?


And if I show you my dark side

Will you still hold me tonight?

And if I open my heart to you

And show you my weak side

What would you do?

Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?

Would you take the children away

And leave me alone?

And smile in reassurance

As you whisper down the phone?

Would you send me packing?

Or would you take me home?


Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,

Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.

I held the blade in trembling hands

Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang

I never had the nerve to make the final cut.

"Hello? Listen, I think I've got it. Okay, listen its a HaHa!"



Not Now John (Waters)

Fuck all that we've got to get on with these

Gotta compete with the wily Japanese.

There's too many home fires burning

And not enough trees.

So fuck all that

We've go to get on with these.


Can't stop

Lose job

Mind gone


What bomb

Get away

Pay day

Make hay

Break down

Need fix

Big six

Clickity click

Hold on

Oh no

Brrrrrrrrrring bingo!


Make 'em laugh.

Make 'em cry.

Make 'em dance in the aisles.

Make 'em pay.

Make 'em stay.

Make'em feel ok.


Not nah John

We've got to get on with the film show.

Hollywood waits at the end of the rainbow.

Who cares what it's about

As long as the kids go?

Not now John

Got to get on with the show.


Hang on John we've got to get on with this.

I don't know what it is

But it fits on here like.....

Come at the end of the shift

We'll go and get pissed.

But now now John

I've got to get on with this.


Hold on John

I think there's something good on.

I used to read books but.....

It could be the news

Or some other abuse

Or it could be reusable shows.


Fuck all that we've got to get on with these

Got to compete with the wily Japanese.

No need to worry about the Vietnamese.

Got to bring the Russian Bear to his knees.

Well, maybe not the Russian Bear

Maybe the Swedes.

We showed Argentina

Now let's go and show these.

Make us feel tough

And wouldn't Maggie be pleased?

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah!


"s'cusi dove il bar


se para collo pou eine toe bar

s'il vous plait ou est le bar

(...say it in English!...)

oi, where's the fucking bar John?

(Oh, now you're talking!)"

Oh! Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the day


Go, Maggie!

Hammer, Hammer, Hammer, Hammer, now!



Two Suns in the Sunset (Waters)

In my rear view mirror the sun is going down

Sinking behind bridges in the road

And I think of all the good things

That we have left undone

And I suffer premonitions

Confirm suspicions

Of the holocaust to come.


The wire that holds the cork

That keeps the anger in

Gives way

And suddenly it's day again.

The sun is in the east

Even though the day is done.

Two suns in the sunset


Could be the human race is run.


Like the moment when the brakes lock

And you slied towards the big truck

"Oh no!"

"[scream] Daddy, Daddy!"

You stretch the frozen moments with your fear.

And you'll never hear their voices

And you'll never see their faces

You have no recourse to the law anymore.


And as the windshield melts

My tears eveaporate

Leaving only charcoal to defend.

Finally I understand the feelings of the few.

Ashes and diamonds

Foe and friend

We were all equal in the end.


"...and now the weather. Tomorrow will be cloudy with scattered showers

spreading from the east ... with an expected high of 4000 degrees





"The Final Cut" is perhaps the most controversial Pink Floyd album of all. It is the closest thing to a Roger Waters solo album that ever went out under the name of Pink Floyd. The material had been written for The Wall and rejected at the time by the rest of the group. By this time, Rick Wright had left the fold, Gilmour and Mason were reduced to the status of mere session men, and Waters' domination of the group reached its height.


David Gilmour: "I said to Roger, If these songs weren't good enough for The Wall, why are they good enough for now? We had the most awful time of my life. Roger had got Rick out, Nick wasn't around much and now he was starting on me. A most unpleasant and humiliating experience."


By sticking to one basic theme--the betrayal of the post-1945 socialist dream by the Thatcher government--Waters was able to write far more incisively than he had done on "The Wall".