"The monkey sat on a pile of stones
And he stared at the broken bone in his hand
And the strains Viennese quartet
Rang out across the land
The monkey looked up at the stars
And he thought to himself
Memory is a stranger
History is for fools
And he cleaned his hands
In a pool of holy writing
Turned his back on the garden
And set out for the nearest town"

Roger Waters 1993 Amused to Death
великие слова, сегодня проснулся со звучанием этой песни в голове, мелькали строчки, я стал черезчур серьезным, я не вижу смысла, attracted by the peeling away a feeling, даю волю, избегаю взглядов, ловлю падающие звезды, пора бежать, выбрать бы только направление)