Pink Floyd

May 4, 2014

Enjoying Peter as he enjoys music. Tonight he played some Pink Floyd on Jim’s guitar and sang. Sang completely unabashedly–nothing at all to be abashed by, but the singing was new. And incredibly sweet.

He knows all the lyrics to so many songs from my generation, songs I should know the lyrics to, and don’t.  I didn’t anticipate that.

Anyway, took no pictures, so went into the archives. Here are his former best pals, Little T and Big T. Rocking out, playing the guitar and singing. Obviously.

Such the portent.



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?

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
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.