Για βιωματικούς λόγους και άρα σε ένα βαθμό αυθαίρετα, το «χάσιμο» στη δεύτερη πλευρά του Meddle, είναι στο μυαλό μου ποτισμένο απ’ τα αρώματα της εβδομάδας των Παθών. Παρεμπιπτόντως, στην ομοιότητα του κεντρικό ριφ του με εκείνο του Phantom Of The Opera, μπορεί να βρει κανείς τη ρίζα της απέχθειας του Roger Waters για τον Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Based on my experiences, and therefore to a certain extent arbitrarily, the rapture of Meddle’s side two is, in my mind, imbued with the aromas of Passion Week. By the way, in the similarity of its central riff with the one of Phantom Of The Opera, someone can trace the root of Roger Water’s despise for Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine
And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light
Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can?
And no one calls us to move on
And no one forces down our eyes
No one speaks and no one tries
No one flies around the sun
Cloudless every day you fall
Upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning
And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky