Pink Floyd, rat race, vampires, 1950's and wall paper

I was listening to Pink Floyd today and stumbled upon lyrics from the song "Three Four" that reminded me of the struggle of characters in this episode. My mind then parralleled the anti-rat race song themed to the purpose of the wall paper in the Yellow Wall Paper. The main character in the Yellow Wall Paper (as I've notice some of you have mentioned already) eventually breaks down the design of the wall paper into a woman constantly struggling to get out of the design.

The song "Three-Four" is about a similar theme to break the mold, the pointless constant struggle of humanity, especially Western outlook, to suceed in what can be perceived as a pointless struggle. Although this view tends to coincide with a bunch of stinky, drug happy hippies, its validity can be shown in some schools of thought, like existentialism.

All of the characters who have judgement cast on them, the marxist, Judy, and Angel, try to break out of these superficial standards. However, the design of 1950's society will not allow them to just be people or soulful vampires.

Anyways here are the lyrics and a link to the song. (link and image will have to wait my browsers are rebelling against me) :(




The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die.

Life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long cold rest.
You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye:
Eighty years, with luck, or even less.

So all aboard for the American tour,
And maybe you'll make it to the top.
And mind how you go, and I can tell you, 'cause I know
You may find it hard to get off.

You are the angel of death
And I am the dead man's son.
And he was buried like a mole in a fox hole.
And everyone is still on the run.

And who is the master of fox hounds?
And who says the hunt has begun?
And who calls the tune in the courtroom?
And who beats the funeral drum?

The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom in the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die.