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.