The Soldier, Slowly Coming Back to Himself... Roger Waters

[Narrator]
The soldier, slowly coming back to himself, sits down under a tree,
Yawns once or twice, staring into the void, then opens the book that lies in his lap.
And, like an automaton, still in a trance, he falteringly starts to read.
And the book contained inside information, and instructions on how to use it.
In simple terms it was money for free, and so as the days became weeks and then years
He made money and used it to set right his affairs. And then,
Maybe by choice, or maybe unnaturally drawn to the game,
He became a peddler, a seller of wares.

[Soldier]
Come along ladies! Come buy my frocks.
I've got ballgowns and bustles and top hats and socks
In charcoal gray, pale gray, the gray of the sea.
I’ve got russet, maroon, dark brown and khaki.
I've got every color that you've ever seen.
I’ve got unbleached linen by the yard,
Printed cottons, crepe-de-chine,
Silks and satins, in all shades and sizes,
And all at rock bottom, knock down, pre-war prices.

[Narrator]
So a peddler at first, selling frocks for a start
Then later he need no goods,
For he knew all the tricks of the market by heart.
With the help of the book, he'd learned very well,
The right time to buy and the right time to sell.