All the songs after this point are a single track.
Therefore, where each song begins and ends is not always clear
 
The Russian Missile (Waters)
(Russian's speaking over radio)
(Instrumental)
 
Towers of Faith (Waters)
Ooooh, the lonely boys
In their towers of faith
Ooooh, the lonely boys
Locked in their towers of faith
The prophet reclined
On the Golan Heights
Ohhh, the lonely boys
He said, this land is my land
To the Shiites
Ooooh, the lonely boys
And Jehova looked up from the sea of Galilee beneath
He said, I see you, you thief
This land is my land
And this sand is my sand
And this band is my band
Oh the lonely boys
Lookin' over their shoulder
Checkin out every boulder in the park
Where the gates are closed from hate
After dark
And the Pope rolled up in his armored van
He fell on his knees and kissed the land
He said something that I did not understand
It was in polish
Then up stepped an aide
He said, I will translate
Here is what His Holiness said:
'I am the Chief Jesuit.'
'This land is Jesus' land.'
'And that is all'
'All that there is to it.'
Hail Mary
Mother of God
And in New York City
The business man in his mohair suit
In the world trade center
Puffs on his cheroot
And he said,
Well I don't care who owns the desert sands
My brief
Is with the hydrocarbons underneath
And the sea of battle rages
Around the ancient tombs
And mother nature licks her wounds
And the lonely boys locked in their towers of faith
Who are nervous in the park
When the gates are closed after dark
Ooooh, the lonely boys
In their towers of faith
Ooooh, the lonely boys
Locked in their towers of faith
 
Hilda's Dream (Waters)
[Radio:] "Radio Four, with the news at 1 o'clock this
Thursday lunchtime. The Prime Minister, speaking a
few minutes ago in the House of Commons, has
warned that the international situation is
deteriorating rapidly and that war could break out at
any time in the next two or three days."
[Man:] "Cripes! This is it! This is really it!"
[Woman:] "I shouldn't worry too much, it'll probably
all blow over."
(Instrumental)
 
The American Bomber (Waters)
"Zero, Zero, Take Cover."
(Instrumental)
 
The Anderson Shelter (Waters)
[Woman:] "It's funny to think there's no shelters this
time. We had an old Anderson in the garden. I can
see it now. We had stertians growing all over it, and
we painted the front green. Painted it looked quite
pretty. Next door grew cabbages on theirs."
[Man:] "Yes, we had a Morrison. Mmmm. I used to
sleep in it. I stuck pin-up girls all over the inside.
Betty Grabel, Ann Shelton, Tricia Rock. The roof got
all smoky, 'cause I used to read in bed with a candle."
[Woman:] "Yes, it was nice at the war, really. The
shelters, the blackouts, the cups of tea..."
[Man:] "The A.R.P., the evacuees, London kids seeing
cows for the first time...."
[Woman: "Old Churchill on the wires..."
[Man:] "Those were the days."
(Instrumental)
 
The British Submarine (Waters)
"Three four five" "Three four five, Sir" "Steady as she
goes" "Steady as she goes, Sir" "??" "(Instrumental)
 
The Attack (Waters)
[Radio:] "An enemy missile attack has been launched
against this country. It is estimated that the missiles
will arrive in approximately three minutes."
[Man:] "God, almighty, there's only three minutes to
go!"
[Woman:] "Okay, I'll just get the washing in."
[Man:] "Shut up! I'm trying to listen!"
[Radio:] "Stay indoors."
[Woman:] "Oh, dear, I've left the oven on."
[Man:] "Get in! Get in! Get in!"
[Woman:] "The cake will be burned!"
[Woman:] "The cake will be burned!"
[Woman:] "The cake will be burned!"
(Instrumental)
 
The Fallout (Waters)
[Man:] "Blimey! I...I suppose...that was it."
[Woman:] "Wasn't it light?"
[Man:] "Yea, terrific. You--you get terrific light with
those bombs. Listen! A dog!"
[Woman:] "What does the fallout look like, dear?"
[Man:] "I don't know. The government director
neglected to mention what it would look like. I expect
it would look a bit like snow does, only gray. Very
quiet. I expect they're all are having a good lie-in
after the bombing."
[Woman:] "Terrible smell of burning."
[Man:] "Yes. Well there's bound to be. That's
logical..."
[Woman:] "It's like...roast meat."
[Man:] "Yes, it does. I expect everybody will be
having their Sunday dinner a bit early this week, due
to the unexpected circumstances..."
[Man:] "A cloud coming up. Looks like rain. We'll be
alright for water now for a while, my dear."
[Woman:] "Do you think rainwater is alright to
drink?"
[Man:] "Oh yes, of course it is. There's nothing purer
than rainwater, is there? Everybody knows that."
[Woman:] "Oh, look! My hair's coming out."
[Man:] "Hair's coming out."
[Woman:] "My hair's coming out."
(Instrumental)
 
Hilda's Hair (Waters)
[Man:] "I shall fear no evil...and thou shalt accompany
me all the days--all the days of my life...uh...lay me
down in--in--in green pastures..I...I don't know
anymore..."
[Woman:] "That was nice, really. Lay me down in
green pastures--"
[Man:] "Oooh yes, yes...enter the valley of the
shadow of death."
[Woman:] "no more, now...there, no more..."
[Man:] "??Road?? the six hundred"
(Instrumental)
 
Folded Flags (Waters)
Rock a bye baby
On the tree top
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock
Oh babe, hate to see you fall that way
Better speak to the powers that be today
Hey Joe, where you goin'
With that gun in your hand?
You can take your revenge
But you'll still feel bad
There must be more to life than lucky strikes
And some unlucky ones
And folded flags and pipes
And drums
I stood in the wings with you
Our lives in the hands of a second-rate actor
Holding the high ground
Of some old stage
Oh babe, how do these jaded stars get so far away
Will they catch what the moral had to say
Hey Joe, where you goin'
With that dogma in your head?
You can prove your point
But your kids will still be dead
Bring down the curtain
This soap opera must surely close
Before the cold wind blows
Hey Joe, where you going
With that gun in your hand
You can take your revenge
But you'll still feel bad
Bring down the curtain
This show must close
Before the cold wind blows
So rock a bye baby
On the tree top
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock
There must be more to life than lucky strikes
And some unlucky ones
And folded flags and pipes
And drums