You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when youre on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.
And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye, and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you
Youll get the chance to put the knife in.
You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know its going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older
And in the end youll pack, fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer.
And when you loose control, youll reap the harvest that youve sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And its too late to loose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown, as you go down alone
Dragged down by the stone.
I gotta admit that Im a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if Im just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake of this creeping malaise
If I dont stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?
Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyones expendable and no-one had a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And you believe at heart, everyones a killer.
Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a seat in the stand
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone.
Pigs on the wing.
If you didn’t care what happened to me,
And I didn’t care for you
We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain
Occasionally glancing up through the rain
Wondering which of the buggers to blame
And watching for pigs on the wing.
II
You know that I care what happens to you,
And I know that you care for me.
So I don’t feel alone,
Or the weight of the stone,
Now that I’ve found somewhere safe
To bury my bone.
And any fool knows a dog needs a home,
A shelter from pigs on the wing.