Andy Summers - Goodbye Pork Pie Hat / Where Can a Man Find Peace? lyrics

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Andy Summers - Goodbye Pork Pie Hat / Where Can a Man Find Peace? lyrics

spoken: Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Peace, peace, peace... Some say peace is never won without a fight or a struggle Or war or k**ing and all that I don't know of any peace ever taken through battle cries How can a victorious peace-winning warmonger ever Or even enjoy his profited lose that was once his Joyous captives when his peace can be a**ured Only by his constant day through night watch Even the slaves can at least close the door of their toilets A conqueror of peace could not let his hair down really For he would have to guard himself with his ears and his mind To even move his bowels in a healthy manner Or to note the slightest unusual sound outside Of his little pools of urine splashes There might be a peace-loving slave, a peace-loving slave Resentful at having been told that his slavery Is a new kind of freedom and peace So where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find peace? Where do I go to find? Where do I go? I've tried the local bar till my head spun me To my poor realties of the nearest liquor store Legal d**, hop and all that I found no peace I found no peace and even now on its belly Or the free-for-alls that chased my livelihood I know about k**ing too In childhood the one left standing bloody from a razor-sharp row Was still at less peace than the dead he was precisely responsible for And that dude was war of a sort I thought then Where were the guardians of our peaceful land of justice that could stop such a melee? I found even less peace on their arrival Armed guardians that the townspeople of Watts paid their hard-earned wages to And to protect and guard their children's safety with k**er's weapons As a child, I blamed the townspeople out there in Watts or Germany or here Or wherever peace is enforced by primitive sources Guns as barbaric as his inventor's fear of himself For not having ever made peace in himself And still, I stand in awe of murderers Still now, as when I was a child Because the history of all mankind is guilty Guilty of his inner fear of himself Of the gun he made to protect the inside he does not even know So where do I go to find peace? I've had glimpses of it all, all the time alone with myself And now I go to my beloved Lock my door to your guns and that wasted noise of people seeking at peace together Without having ever loved themselves enough To understand the reasons other children are born Besides our own