Pigs (3 Different Ones) (30 Jan 1977) Songtext
von Pink Floyd
Pigs (3 Different Ones) (30 Jan 1977) Songtext
Big man, pig man
Ha-ha, charade you are
Whoo!
You, well-heeled big wheel
Ha-ha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You′re nearly a good laugh
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying, "Keep on digging"
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find
Down in the pig mine?
You're nearly a laugh
You′re nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry
Bus stop rat bag
Ha-ha, charade you are
You, fucked up old hag
Ha-ha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost worth a quick grin
You like the feel of steel
You′re hot stuff with a hatpin
And good fun with a handgun
You′re nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh, but you′re really a cry
Hey you, Whitehouse
Ha-ha, charade you are
You, house-proud town mouse
Ha-ha, charade you are
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street
You′re nearly a real treat
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
You!
Gotta stem the evil tide
And keep it all on the inside
Mary, you're nearly a treat
Mary, you′re nearly a treat, but you're really a cry
Ha-ha, charade you are
Whoo!
You, well-heeled big wheel
Ha-ha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You′re nearly a good laugh
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying, "Keep on digging"
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find
Down in the pig mine?
You're nearly a laugh
You′re nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry
Bus stop rat bag
Ha-ha, charade you are
You, fucked up old hag
Ha-ha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost worth a quick grin
You like the feel of steel
You′re hot stuff with a hatpin
And good fun with a handgun
You′re nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh, but you′re really a cry
Hey you, Whitehouse
Ha-ha, charade you are
You, house-proud town mouse
Ha-ha, charade you are
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street
You′re nearly a real treat
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
You!
Gotta stem the evil tide
And keep it all on the inside
Mary, you're nearly a treat
Mary, you′re nearly a treat, but you're really a cry
Writer(s): George Roger Waters Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com