The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering
games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.
The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces
to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.

And if the dam breaks open
many years too soon,
And if there is no room upon the hill,
And if your head explodes
with dark forebodings too,
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head.
You raise the blade, you make the change,
You rearrange me ’till I’m sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key,
There’s someone in my head
but it’s not me.

And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear,
You shout and no one seems to hear,
And if the band you’re in
starts playing different tunes,
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

“I can’t think of anything to say, except…
I think it’s marvelous.”

All that you touch
And all that you see
All that you taste, all you feel
And all that you love
And all that you hate
All you distrust, all you save
And all that you give
And all that you deal
And all that you buy, beg, borrow or steal
And all you create
And all you destroy
And all that you do
And all that you say
And all that you eat
And everyone you meet
And all that you slight
And everyone you fight
And all that is now
And all that is gone
And all that’s to come
And everything under the sun is in tune,
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon…
“There is no dark side in the moon really. Matter of fact, it’s all dark.”