Roger Waters: This Is Not a Drill

Last night at the Tacoma Dome, Roger Waters continued the North American leg of his concert tour called This Is Not a Drill. It was a show full of great rock n’ roll music and left-wing politics, both of which I’m a huge fan of. It started out with a subdued version of Comfortably Numb (with thunder and lightning in the background) and went right into the antifascism with The Happiest Days of Our Lives and Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2 and 3. This show churned out the most badass version of Have a Cigar I’ve ever heard. Equally badass were songs like In the Flesh and Run Like Hell. He debuted a two-part song called The Bar, which was described as a community where people can come together and be themselves without fear of judgment. If it wasn’t for me having to wait fifteen minutes before the show to use the toilet, this night would have been completely flawless. Before driving to the Tacoma Dome, I ate at a restaurant called The Southern Kitchen and drank lots of lemonade with my meal (chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and macaroni and cheese). A bladder the size of a snow tire was a distant memory compared to this wonderful evening with Roger Waters, one of my all-time personal heroes. I have my dad to thank for introducing me to Pink Floyd. I have my brother James to thank for driving me to Tacoma despite his tiredness. And I have Roger Waters to thank for putting on my favorite concert of 2022. Wash THAT all away, Five Finger Death Punch! Oh, I kid Ivan Moody!

Couch Potato Salad

Running late to a party where I don’t belong
What’s the fucking point in staying so strong?
What’s the point in coming out of the shadows?
Small talk never got past the point of shallow

Laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling
Forgetting about my brokenhearted feelings
Forgetting that there are strangers all around me
I’d enter their social circles if they allowed me

Couch potato salad is what I’ve become
Lazy, dead inside, and comfortably numb
I didn’t have to suck down a single beer
To feel like sleeping forever in here

There’s a Denny’s only a few blocks away
Hopefully they’re open twenty-four hours a day
Pancakes and syrup to kill the loneliness
My body’s a temple and I’m his holiness

Nobody noticed that I got off the couch
Not a “goodbye” or “wait up” out of their mouths
That’s okay, they’re invisible to me as well
What about the waitress? Can she even tell?

Walking down the street with my head hung low
Keeping my pace so agonizingly slow
I don’t notice when someone tells me to move
To impatient strangers, I’ve nothing to prove

Another night of waffles and emptiness
Another night of squandered friendliness
Another night of being socially envious
Another night of depressive endlessness

When will I learn to stay home for the night?
When will I admit that I could never be right?
No more philosophy, just syrup and batter
It’s not like any of this even fucking matters

A happy Buddha belly and a frozen heart
This is how the next morning will start
Another day of wishing for bravery
And chowing down on steaks so savory