Dope Fiends and Boozehounds

The sixth sense of memory
Runs a river near a road
That travels up the parkway
Getting frozen in the snow
Where what you see is what you see is what you see…
And only some will know
Where the ragged people go
Where the boozehounds, they bay
By the banks of the reservoir
Crows climb higher
From their old familiar yard
The best thing in heaven
Is supposed to be the sun
That shines between two mountains
And melts the Devil’s gun
But what you see is what you see is what you see…
And only some will know
Where the ragged people go
Down here on Kipling
Where the streetlamps light the way, hey
There’s talk of a reunion
Of the ones who didn’t stay
Why didn’t they stay here
And help me shovel the walk?
(Why didn’t they stay here?)
Sick sense of melody
Is what I hear when I’m alone
And I love it more than misery
And I love it more than home
And I cry 'cause I’m not with it
Even though I’ve never been…
Where the dope fiends laugh
And say it’s too soon
They all go home and listen to
The Dark Side of the Moon