Saint Tropez (del disco Meddle, de 1971)
As I reach for a peach
Slide a ride down behind
a sofa in San Tropez
Breaking a stick with a brick on the sand
Riding a wave in the wake of an old sedan
Sleeping alone in the drone of the darkness
Scratched by the sand that fell from my love
Deep in my dreams and I still hear her calling
If you´re alone I´ll come home
Backward and home bound
A pigeon, a dove
Gone with the wind and the rain on an airplane
Owning a home with no silver spoon
I´m drinking champagne like a big tycoon
Sooner than wait for a break in the weather
I´ll gather my far flung thoughts together
Speeding away on the wind to a new day
If your alone I´ll come home
And I pause for a while
By a country style
And listen to the things they say
Digging the gold in a hole in my hand
Hoping the good, take a look at the way things end
And you´re leading me down to a place by the sea
I hear your soft voice calling to me
Making a date for Rita Pavone
if you´re alone I´ll come home.
El pianito del finado Rick Wright...
Semblanza de un día ideal en...el Saint Tropez de finales de los 60´. El ritmo: un jazzito, con Davil Gilmore, ya asentado como guitarrista de la formación.
En el 70´ los Floyd dieron un legendario concierto en la localidad de la Ribera Francesa.
-Y Freddy no tocó en ese festival, Angelo?
-No sé, Mauri, no sé.
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