Lyrics: Pink Floyd. Pigs (3 Different Ones).
:
Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
you're nearly a good laugh, almost a joker,
with your head down in the pig bin,
saying, " Keep on digging", pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find, when you're down in the pig mine?
You're nearly a laugh, you're nearly a laugh,
but you're really a cry.
Bus stop rat bag, ha ha charade you are.
You fucked up old hag, ha ha charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You're nearly a good laugh, almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel, you're hot stuff with a hat pin,
and good fun with a hand gun.
You're nearly a laugh, you're nearly a laugh,
but you're really a cry.
Hey you, Whitehouse, ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse, ha ha charade you are.
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street,
you're nearly a real treat, all tight lips and cold feet,
and do you feel abused?
You gotta stem the evil tide,
and keep it all on the inside.
Mary, you're nearly a treat, Mary, you're nearly a treat,
but you're really a cry.
Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
you're nearly a good laugh, almost a joker,
with your head down in the pig bin,
saying, " Keep on digging", pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find, when you're down in the pig mine?
You're nearly a laugh, you're nearly a laugh,
but you're really a cry.
Bus stop rat bag, ha ha charade you are.
You fucked up old hag, ha ha charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You're nearly a good laugh, almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel, you're hot stuff with a hat pin,
and good fun with a hand gun.
You're nearly a laugh, you're nearly a laugh,
but you're really a cry.
Hey you, Whitehouse, ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse, ha ha charade you are.
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street,
you're nearly a real treat, all tight lips and cold feet,
and do you feel abused?
You gotta stem the evil tide,
and keep it all on the inside.
Mary, you're nearly a treat, Mary, you're nearly a treat,
but you're really a cry.
Pink Floyd
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