1765 – Pink Floyd – Dogs (1977)

Escrita por Roger Waters e David Gilmour, foi gravada entre abril e novembro de 1976 e lançada em 23 de janeiro de 1977, no disco Animals, o décimo disco da banda. Foi produzida pela própria banda. Foi escrita ainda em 1974 pro disco Wish you were here, mas teve a letra modificada e foi lançada no Animals, sendo preterida do Wish you were here. É a única canção do disco que Gilmour canta e recebe crédito de composição. É também a última contribuição vocal de Richard Wright, antes dele deixar a banda em 1979. É baseada no conceito de George Orwell de comportamento humano baseado nos animais, Dogs fala de um homem de negócios sem escrúpulos. Um sujeito que se veste bem, aperta mão firme, mas que no fundo é um caçador implacável. David Gilmour cantou a primeira parte, tocou violão e guitarra. Roger tocou baixo, cantou a segunda parte e fez harmonias vocais na segunda parte e tocou vocoder. Richard Wright tocou piano elétrico Fender Rhodes, órgão Hammond, Minimoog e fez harmonias vocais na primeira parte. Nick Mason tocou bateria e percussão.

A letra:

You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking

And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You'll get the chance to put the knife in

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older
And in the end you'll pack up and fly down south
Hide your head in the sand,
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer

And when you loose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone
Dragged down by the stone (stone, stone, stone, stone, stone)

I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?

Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable and no-one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything's done under the sun
And you believe at heart, everyone's a killer

Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel

Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home

Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone

A versão do Pink Floyd:

A versão de Yoni Schlesinger:

A versão de School of Rock: