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What Roger Waters Wrote On The Wall

 The Rock & Roll hall of Fame has great Wall display, it consists of a wall made of the Berlin 1990 bricks with a giant inflatable teacher hanging in front
 of it, and a couple of the costumes from the show are sitting along top. The following is what is written on the back of the display, by none other than
                                                   Roger Waters himself: 

                                                        The Wall


                                       In the Old Days, pre-Dark Side of the Moon,
                                          Pink Floyd played to audiences which,
                                      by virtue of their size, allowed an intimacy of 
                                               connection that was magical.

                                        However, success overtook us and by 1977
                                          we were playing in football stadiums.

                                         The magic, crushed beneath the weight of
                                         numbers. We were becoming addicted to
                                               the trappings of popularity.

                                         I found myself increasingly alienated in
                                         that atmosphere of avarice and ego until
                                       one night in the Olympic Stadium, Montreal,
                                             the boil of my frustrations burst.

                                        Some crazed teenage fan was clawing his 
                                         way up the storm netting that separated 
                                        us from the human cattle pen in front of the
                                      stage screaming his devotion to the demi-gods
                                                    beyond his reach.

                                          Incensed by his misunderstanding and
                                       my own connivance, I spat my frustration in
                                                        his face.

                                             Later that night; back at the hotel
                                   shocked by my behaviour I was faced with a choice.

                                          To deny my addiction and embrace that
                                      "comfortably numb" but "magic-less" existence
                                           or accept the burden of insight, take
                                         the road less travelled and embark on the 
                                       often painful journey to discover who I was
                                                     and where I fit.

                                        The Wall was the picture I drew for myself
                                               to help me make that choice.