I have spent days, and hours watching
the moves, the passes, the dribbles,
the shots, the goals, the misses,
the joys and the agonies.
every four years.

I have been searching for a reason to put myself through it all again.
and I have found it, just in time, in this anthem;
in the words of the song

Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)

You’re a good soldier, Choosing your battles
Pick yourself up; And dust yourself off; Get back in the saddle

You’re on the front line; Everyone’s watching
You know it’s serious; We’re getting closer; This isn’t over

The pressure’s on; you feel it, But you got it all; believe it

When you fall get up oh, oh
And if you fall get up eh, eh

Tsamina mina zangalewa; Cause this is Africa

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Listen to your god; this is our motto
Your time to shine; Don’t wait in line; Y vamos por todo

People are raising their expectations
Go on and feel it; This is your moment; No hesitation

Today’s your day, I feel it, You paved the way, Believe it

If you get down; Get up oh, oh
When you get down; Get up eh, eh

Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah
Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Awela Majoni Biggie Biggie Mamma
from A to Z
Athi sithi LaMajoni Biggie Biggie Mamma
from east to west

Bathi . . .
Waka Waka Ma Eh Eh
Waka Waka Ma Eh Eh
Zonke zizwe mazi buye O Mazize Africa

Tsamina mina mina; Waka waka ah, Tsamina mina,
Tsamina mina mina; Waka waka ah,

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah
Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Zambo eh eh; Zambo eh eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah

This time for Africa, This time for Africa,
For all africa

originally sung by Golden Sounds, a makossa group from Cameroon.
did she steal the song?

with versions of the song from far flung places
with cover versions by umpteen artists,
does it matter?

… and so once again,
I will be cheering the Netherlands,
the land of Johan Cruyff, Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit, Dennis Bergkamp ….

Shakirawaka wakaworld cup 2010

it will be 40 years tomorrow,
two men went to the moon

and returned safely back to earth

I was a young boy in Calcutta then
Calcutta had no TVs – no stations no broadcasting
I was forbid from tuning in on the radio late at night
but it could not keep me away from
the excitement
the enthusiasm
the anticipation tinged with fear
I had to wait sleepless nights to read expedition news in the morning papers

my world could no longer be the same
my mind could only look up and beyond,
my mind had embarked on an adventure of my own
to explore the wonders of space, the universe
wonders of the unknown

I was so very young when I heard this song
I loved the tune

Written by John Stewart
I heard the version sung by the American singer Lobo
I could not find either of their versions on youTube – so I give you this

ARMSTRONG

- Words By John Stewart © Bug Music, INC. / Burgle Publishing (BMI)

Black boy in Chicago, Playing in the street
Not near enough to wear, Not near enough to eat
Don’t you know he saw it,
On a July afternoon
He saw a man named Armstrong, Walk upon the moon

Young girl in Calcutta, Barely eight years old
The flies that swarm the market place, Will see she don’t get old
Don’t you know she heard it,
On that July afternoon
She heard a man named Armstrong, Had walked upon the moon

The rivers are getting dirty, The wind is getting bad
War and hate are killing off, The only earth we have
But the world all stopped to watch it
On that July afternoon
To watch a man named Armstrong, Walk upon the moon

And I wonder if a long time ago, Somewhere in the universe
They watched a man named Adam
Walk upon the earth

tomorrow
the world will look back 40 years to that day

no longer the young boy,
now I will look all around me before I look up and beyond
on earth
we are still divided, prejudiced and intolerent
we are yet to find unity; find peace for all mankind

for 40 years we have failed to live up to the promise we left behind on the moon.

Apollo11neil+armstrongmoon landing

to question the unexplained wrongs
beliefs blinded by aeons of
superstitions
prejudices
and religions

Faith of the Heart

a song written by Diane Warren
originally performed by Rod Stewart for the soundtrack of the 1998 film Patch Adams
also the opening soundtrack for “Enterprise” – the Star Trek prequel

sung here by Russel Watson.

It’s been a long road
Getting from there to here
It’s been a long time
But my time is finally near

And I can feel the change in the wind right now
Nothing’s in my way
And they’re not gonna hold me down no more
No they’re not gonna hold me down

‘Cause I’ve got faith of the heart
I’m going where my heart will take me
I’ve got faith to believe
I can do anything
I’ve got strength of the soul
And no one’s gonna bend or break me
I can reach any star
I’ve got faith, I’ve got faith, faith of the heart

It’s been a long night
Trying to find my way
Been through the darkness
Now I’ve finally have my day

And I will see my dream come alive at last
I will touch the sky
And they’re not gonna hold me down no more
No they’re not gonna change my mind

I’ve known the wind so cold, and seen the darkest days.
But now the winds I feel, are only winds of change.
I’ve been through the fire and I’ve been through the rain.
But I’ll be fine.

It’s been a long road.

i stumbled back on this song from the

flower power days
when some had the courage to stand up and say no more to violence
when to bring change needed courage and sacrifice
not the sanctimonious voices

younger generation – john sebastian at woodstock

why must every generation think they’re folks are square
and no matter where they’re heads are, they know mom’s aint there.
cause’ I swore when I was small, that I’d remember when
i knew what’s wrong with them that I was smaller then

determined to remember all the cardinal rules
like sunshowers are legal grounds for skipping school
i know I have forgotten maybe one or two
and I hope that I recall them all before the baby’s due
and I’ll know he’ll have a question or two

like hey pop can I go ride my zoom
it goes twohundred miles an hour, suspended on balloons
and can I put a droplet of this new stuff on my tongue
and imagine frothing dragons, while you sit and wreck your lungs
and I must be permissive understanding of the younger generation

and then I know that all I’ve learned my kid assumes
and all my deepest worries must be his cartoons
and still I’ll try to tell him all the things I’ve done
relating to what he can do when he becomes a man
and still he’ll stick his fingers in the fan

and hey pop my girlfriend’s only three
she’s got her own bitty phone
and she is taking lsd
and now that we’re best friends she want’s to give a taste of me
but whats the matter daddy how come you’re looking mean
can it be that you can’t live up to your dreams

40 years and more has gone by, do we even care
what kind of a world we leave behind for the future generations
a world where they still will have to fight for their equal rights, if any at all

not one we can be proud of

[flowerpower: 1967 photograph of George Edgerly Harris III by Bernie Boston]

So,
a blast from the past as my friend writes to me.
jethro tull
- the lyrics of Ian Anderson to be specific.

I loved this song
since way backwhen –
when (in kolkata) it was considered to be too uncool to even listen to this band.

but Mr Anderson himself explains:

this song was to illustrate how a style of music may go out of popularity
like with every other fashion and fade and then
everything comes back around
and the style rises
again…

being uncool –
is the story of my life – all my life
and words comes around as a reminder

“Too Old To Rock ‘n’ Roll: Too Young To Die”

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end     drank his ale too light.
Death’s head belt buckle     yesterday’s dreams
the transport caf’ prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

Now he’s too old to Rock’n'Roll but he’s too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he’s the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do’s.
For drinks on a Sunday     work on Monday.
They’ve thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they’re too old to Rock’n'Roll and they’re too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies     tears in his eyes
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock’n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you’re never too old to Rock’n'Roll if you’re too young to die.

It was the TV
humming in the background.
droning on with a bit of this or a bit of that
a song came on – that suddenly pierced my consciousness,
By the time I focussed on the screen it was a commercial for a butterspread.

But the tune continued to play on in my mind.
I waited for the ad to be repeated.
And yesterday.

It was again the TV humming away in the background.
The same droning of a bit of this a bit of that
and then that song started.
I could not have focused
any quicker.

I got the opening lines of the lyrics before the tub of butter hit the screen,
next hour, tiptapping through Google and the Wikipedia,
I learnt of this song that I did not know,
until now.

I also learnt about Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.
It had challenged many of the norms held by Western society in 1968.

Growing up in the 70-80s in middle-class India –
becoming a ‘hippie’ was near impossible.
I realise now I was a flower child at heart,
fate planted me where I was considered more as a weed.
(there’s no pun in it – honest)

In my own way, I have rebelled against the
unquestioned norms and traditions
illogical and unfair establishments
My first act of rebellion was
to let my hair grow long.
To the disgust of my dad and
the school’s Prefect of discipline – yes, got sent home too.

So I share it with you from the musical, “Hair” –

“I Got Life:

by James Rado and Gerome Ragni

I got life, mother – I got laughs, sister – I got freedom, brother
I got good times, man
I got crazy ways, daughter – I got million-dollar charm, cousin
I got headaches and toothaches And bad times too
Like you

I got my hair – I got my head – I got my brains – I got my ears
I got my eyes – I got my nose – I got my mouth
I got my teeth

I got my tongue – I got my chin – I got my neck – I got my tits
I got my heart – I got my soul – I got my back
I got my ass

I got my arms – I got my hands – I got my fingers – Got my legs
I got my feet – I got my toes – I got my liver
Got my blood

I got my guts – I got my muscles – I got life
Life – Life
LIFE!

So why did I not know of this for so long?

I find it has never been staged in
“China, India, Vietnam, the Arctic and Antarctic continents and most African countries.”

but for how long the king,
always the animal deep inside. . . . . hyaenas

and you delude you have won
but for how long
forever?

Who wants to live forever – Queen

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/v/pC4ZOxpu2rs&rel=1]

There’s no time for us
There’s no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us

Who wants to live forever . . . . . Who wants to live forever . . . . . ?
Oh

There’s no chance for us
It’s all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever . . . . . Who wants to live forever. . . . . ?
Oh

Who dares to love forever . . . . . Oh, when love must die
But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever . . . . . And we can love forever. . . . .
Forever is our today

Who wants to live forever. . . . . Who wants to live forever. . . . . ?
Forever is our today. . . . . Who waits forever anyway?

in universal time
the lie which is your life is just a blink
pride, dishonesty and you will soon be rotting to dust for eternity

Now caged within bars of
deep prejudices, dishonesty and untruths.

When days are spent dreaming of a world truly free.

Mr Tambourine man – Bob Dylan

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin’.
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

Though you might hear
laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun,
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn’t pay it any mind, it’s just a shadow you’re
Seein’ that he’s chasing.

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Take me to a place where the clock-hands can go backwards.
Anywhere or anywhen, this world or beyond,
this universe or the next
or an x^th dimension.
Please?

I was just having a nose around on the beach, like a dog has to.
Picking up smells only a dog can.

And bravely fighting the large pebbles till they rolled off exhausted.

Sniffing sniffing.

A doggie smell there, a puppy smell here.
A fishy smell here, a crabby smell there.

A clump of seaweed.
Fish, I smelt fish. I put my nose in, into the clump, and
it hurt, it hurt. I yelped and yelped, the weed was stuck to my mouth.

I ran to my mummy, and she found something on my lip that was tied to the weed.
She bit the string off with her teeth, just like a dog would do,
and tried to take the thing off my lip, but it hurt.

I ran home with her.
And she took me to the dog doctors.
They tried to give me an jinsecktion on my lip but it hurt and hurt.

So the doctor took me to another room and made me breathe some funny air.
It made me giggly, but I was too much in hurt, and I think I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the thing on my lip was gone.
I felt a lot better and I came home and sat on my chair.

I couldn’t have my afterwalk crunchie munchies, I had antiboytics.
Littleindian didn’t help me today, I don’t know where he went.
He left when night was becoming day, before my food time.
So mummy looked after me, she was upset and crying.

I heard it is called a barbie hoook to catch fish, that someone had left behind.
So I beg all fish catching people, please, please, please
don’t leave hoooky things on the beach,

dogs hurt too.

In my daydreams I have been freddie mercury.
If ever, in some other plane of existence my freed soul is asked,
what I would like to return as, to live another life, I would say without hesitation -
Freddie Mercury.
this is why.

the show must go on – Queen

[digg=http://digg.com/music/on_with_the_show_2/blog]

[audio=http://awmyth.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/16-the-show-must-go-on.mp3]

Empty spaces – what are we living for
Abandoned places – I guess we know the score
On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for…

Another hero, another mindless crime
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime
Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore

The show must go on, the show must go on
Inside my heart is breaking, my make-up may be flaking
But my smile still stays on.

Whatever happens, I’ll leave it all to chance
Another heartache, another failed romance
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?

I guess I’m learning, I must be warmer now
I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now
Outside the dawn is breaking, but inside in the dark

I’m aching to be free

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies
Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die
I can fly – my friends

The show must go on, the show must go on
I’ll face it with a grin, I’m never giving in
On – with the show -

I’ll top the bill, I’ll overkill, I have to find the will to carry on
On with the – On with the show – The show must go on…
on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go

The Album: The Show Must Go On was released six weeks before Freddies death.

lyricsQueenfreddie mercurylifedreams

It hasn’t been easy travelling alone
looking for the right way at
every crossroads and every bend, I had learn’t
the easy road was only for the fortunates, not for me.
Did I drift from my intended course? Oh so many times,
to pick it up again further on, lost it to pick it up again.

Never was an option to stop, or turn back.
So now I find I have reached a field
where battle lines have been drawn.
I have been advised to cut and run,
how can I? I have never done it before. So I win or I lose,
I will have no regrets. I have been pushed down, but I refused to bow or kneel.

So today, as I listen to Mr Frank Sinatra, I am glad, I could do it all in my own way.

My Way

And now, the end is near; And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I’ll say it clear, I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.

I’ve lived a life that’s full. I’ve traveled each and ev’ry highway;
But more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Regrets, I’ve had a few; But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course; Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall; And did it my way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried. I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that; And may I say – not in a shy way,
“No, oh no not me, I did it my way”.

For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels; And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows – And did it my way!

Writers: Revaux/Francois/Anka

My mind ran away without me knowing.

At 70mph
on a motorway
driving back home
auto pilot switches on.
Staring at the tail lights
matching speed for speed
keeping 1.5 seconds behind
any vehicle immediately in front.

Playing a disc that never got changed,
listening to the lyrics of a Mr Bob Dylan
and then not listening, as my mind starts to drift

Reflecting on the past, on my past
my own journey more than half done.
Many failures, few successes, but no regrets,
No regrets! No, for I know I have given it my best shot.
I have played fair, never bowed down, never hung my head in shame.

To all you young ladies and gentlemen
just starting on your own journeys, I wish you these lyrics of Mr Bob Dylan.

Forever Young – Bob Dylan

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young.

Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

lyricsBob Dylanlifedriving memories

We
talk,
argue,
we deny
the damage, the destruction
being done to our environment.

There are
learned people on
either side of the debate,
some honest some dishonest
who cannot come to a consensus.

And all the while the destruction keeps going on, reminding me these lines
“…don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone…”

from a song by Joni Mitchell,
a singer, songwriter and painter from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Big yellow taxi – joni mitchell

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel, a boutique and a swinging hot spot

Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

They took all the trees put ‘em in a tree museum
And they charged the people a dollar and a half just to see ‘em

Hey farmer farmer put away that DDT now
Give me spots on my apples but leave me the birds and the bees
Please!

Late last night I heard the screen door slam
And a big yellow taxi took away my old man.

The song was first released as a single in 1970,
and then was put on the album Ladies of the Canyon.

life environment lyrics

How much control
do we really have over our lives?

Are we only just following
a fixed sequence of events
that is inevitable and unchangeable,
Or do we choose our own destiny
by choosing different paths throughout our life.

In years I have left behind, when
I felt my life was going nowhere,
this song was my constant companion, haunting my thoughts;
and even now, it jumps out at me unsuspected,
as if to say,
“Huh! do really think you have a choice”?

Patterns – Paul Simon

The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child’s uneven scrawl

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath
Like a rat in a maze
The path before my lies
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell
And it’s fitting that it should
For in darkness I must dwell
Like the color of my skin
Or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled

Album: Parsley Sage Rosemary and Thyme
In 2003, it was ranked number 201
on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time.

Some may believe that
I hate anything American,
its not true how can I,
when America gave us Bob Dylan.

Folk or rock,
I don’t mind what style of music he plays.
To me his music is just the pin cushion
in which he embeds his words.

[digg=http://digg.com/offbeat_news/bob_dylan_what_good_am_I_lyrics/blog]

What Good Am I – Bob Dylan

What good am I if I’m like all the rest,
If I just turned away, when I see how you’re dressed,
If I shut myself off so I can’t hear you cry,
What good am I?

What good am I if I know and don’t do,
If I see and don’t say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin’ sky,
What good am I?

What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep,
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don’t try,
What good am I?

What good am I then to others and me
If I’ve had every chance and yet still fail to see
If my hands tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been

What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die,
What good am I?

From his album: Oh Mercy: Released September 1989

lyricsBob Dylanlifejusticeequalityhuman rights

I had spent millions of hours
trying to learn the guitar leads, till I realised,
not only was I playing the wrong kind of guitar,
I was trying to emulate the great Jerry Garcia.
Without success.

I was reading this blog
Climate Change reassurance for kids,
when this song from the yesteryears came to back to my mind.

On the same blogsite,
I also found these Throwaway Lines;
so this is for Sam.

“Teach Your Children”
is a song by Graham Nash, about his difficult relationship with his father.
From the album Deja Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young released in 1970.

You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.

Teach your children well,
Their father’s hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.

Don’t you ever ask them why,
if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

And you, of tender years,
Can’t know the fears that your elders grew by,
And so please help them with your youth,
They seek the truth before they can die.

Teach your parents well,
Their children’s hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.

Don’t you ever ask them why,
if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

Time it was,
and what a time it was,
it was
A time of innocence,
a time of confidences

Long ago,
it must be,
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories;
They’re all that’s left you

Lyrics: Paul Simon and Arthur Garfunkel

Album: Bookends 1968 – Track: Bookends Theme

Somewhere I read the description of this album as “….a meditation on the passage of life and the psychological impact of life’s irreversible ever-accumulating losses”.

I was twelve or thirteen when I first heard these lines.
When a bit older and learnt to strum and hum a bit, I would sing it to myself.
Now with maybe two-thirds of my life behind me, I find I spend my time in reminiscing.
Life has come around in a circle…or is that a line from another song?

]]> http://littleindian.awmyth.net/2007/01/12/simon-garfunkel-bookends-theme/feed/ 0 http://littleindian.awmyth.net/2007/01/12/pink-floyd-wish-you-were-here/ http://littleindian.awmyth.net/2007/01/12/pink-floyd-wish-you-were-here/#comments Fri, 12 Jan 2007 01:36:12 +0000 littleindian http://awmyth.wordpress.com/2007/01/12/pink-floyd-wish-you-were-here/ So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange
a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
year after year,
running over the same old ground. What have we found?
The same old fears,
wish you were here.

writer Roger Waters‘s feelings of alienation from other people and himself, as well as disillusionment with music. Like most of the album, it also refers to former Pink Floyd member Syd Barrett.

“ …Either the music comes first and the lyrics are added, or music and lyrics come together. Only once have the lyrics been written down first – “Wish You Were Here”. But this is unusual; it hasn’t happened before.
- Roger Waters