Busan, Korea, August 7, 2011.
I just uploaded several hundred photos to my Flickr page. Please check it out!
On Tuesday I will celebrate my 2 month anniversary in Korea! Time flies!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fostergregd/
My first experience with socialized medicine
Busan, Korea, July 25, 2011
So, I had my first real experience with socialized medicine today. Let me tell you how it went.
First, I gotta go back. Back in time to… last week. I noticed about last Wednesday that I was having trouble hearing out of my left ear. For a couple of days, it really bothered me. I kept pinching my nose and trying to blow out the whatever--it-was that was clogging up my ear. By Friday, I thought it was getting better. I could kind of hear alright. By Sunday morning, however, I knew something was wrong.
About two summers ago I got an ear infection. I know where it came from. I was swimming under the waterfall (okay, I know it's just a spillway from the Spring Lake dam, but it's effing beautiful, and I like to call it a waterfall) in San Marcos. Cool, clear water comes flowing over that spillway night and day, and I used to love diving under the waterfall, looking at the fish, and holding my breath as long as I could.
Anyway, this one day I came up right underneath the spillway, and got sprayed with some high pressure water. The same thing happened then that happened last week: I got some water in my ear, and I couldn't get it out. After about a week, I had a serious ear infection on my hands, and I actually ended up driving down to the Audie Murphy VA hospital in San Antonio and sitting in the emergency room for 5 or 6 hours just to see the doctor for 5 minutes and get some antibiotics.
This time, I didn't really notice what caused my ear to get clogged. I guess it was at the gym. I briefly dunked my head under water in the hot tub before I got out to take a shower one day. That must have been it.
When I woke up Sunday morning and my jaw hurt, I was concerned. I tugged at my ear. That hurt too. I was pretty sure, at this point, that I had an ear infection. I wasn't sure what to do about it. Here in Korea, anyone who is slightly ill is told to "go to the hospital". I think that they don't distinguish between the hospital, emergency room, and doctor's office/clinic the way we do. So I called my co-teacher and my supervisor (who speaks very limited English) to try to figure it out. I eventually decided that the best thing for me to do was get up Monday morning and go to the clinic that's in the same building as our school.
I got there this morning at about 11:05. Coincidentally, one of my students (June, a 3rd grader) was walking into the building at the same time as me. I talked to him for a minute, we got on the elevator together, and we both got off on the second floor… then both walked into the clinic. It turns out that his mother works at the clinic, and she was at the front desk. That made my life a little easier, as he took on the task of translating. I showed them my Alien Registration Card (that's what it's really called), they entered my information into the system, and my student showed me in to see the doctor, about 5 minutes after I walked into the clinic with no appointment. The doctor apologized for his limited English, (which wasn't that bad, he definitely knew the word "infected") put the microscope-thingy in both of my ears, typed something in the computer, and then sent me back to the front desk.
The woman working the front desk had me sit down to a machine that was like an infrared heat lamp for my ear, I did that for 3 minutes, then they handed me my prescription and charged me my copay, w12,000 (about $10 US). So far, so good. My student then walked me down to the pharmacy on the first floor, where they gave us each a candy and filled my prescription in another five minutes. By 11:30 I was at my desk, drinking a bottle of water and taking my first round of antibiotics.
Socialized medicine: not too bad. Now I wonder if Rush Limbaugh was lying to me all those years that he said it was a back door to communism.
So, I had my first real experience with socialized medicine today. Let me tell you how it went.
First, I gotta go back. Back in time to… last week. I noticed about last Wednesday that I was having trouble hearing out of my left ear. For a couple of days, it really bothered me. I kept pinching my nose and trying to blow out the whatever--it-was that was clogging up my ear. By Friday, I thought it was getting better. I could kind of hear alright. By Sunday morning, however, I knew something was wrong.
About two summers ago I got an ear infection. I know where it came from. I was swimming under the waterfall (okay, I know it's just a spillway from the Spring Lake dam, but it's effing beautiful, and I like to call it a waterfall) in San Marcos. Cool, clear water comes flowing over that spillway night and day, and I used to love diving under the waterfall, looking at the fish, and holding my breath as long as I could.
Anyway, this one day I came up right underneath the spillway, and got sprayed with some high pressure water. The same thing happened then that happened last week: I got some water in my ear, and I couldn't get it out. After about a week, I had a serious ear infection on my hands, and I actually ended up driving down to the Audie Murphy VA hospital in San Antonio and sitting in the emergency room for 5 or 6 hours just to see the doctor for 5 minutes and get some antibiotics.
This time, I didn't really notice what caused my ear to get clogged. I guess it was at the gym. I briefly dunked my head under water in the hot tub before I got out to take a shower one day. That must have been it.
When I woke up Sunday morning and my jaw hurt, I was concerned. I tugged at my ear. That hurt too. I was pretty sure, at this point, that I had an ear infection. I wasn't sure what to do about it. Here in Korea, anyone who is slightly ill is told to "go to the hospital". I think that they don't distinguish between the hospital, emergency room, and doctor's office/clinic the way we do. So I called my co-teacher and my supervisor (who speaks very limited English) to try to figure it out. I eventually decided that the best thing for me to do was get up Monday morning and go to the clinic that's in the same building as our school.
I got there this morning at about 11:05. Coincidentally, one of my students (June, a 3rd grader) was walking into the building at the same time as me. I talked to him for a minute, we got on the elevator together, and we both got off on the second floor… then both walked into the clinic. It turns out that his mother works at the clinic, and she was at the front desk. That made my life a little easier, as he took on the task of translating. I showed them my Alien Registration Card (that's what it's really called), they entered my information into the system, and my student showed me in to see the doctor, about 5 minutes after I walked into the clinic with no appointment. The doctor apologized for his limited English, (which wasn't that bad, he definitely knew the word "infected") put the microscope-thingy in both of my ears, typed something in the computer, and then sent me back to the front desk.
The woman working the front desk had me sit down to a machine that was like an infrared heat lamp for my ear, I did that for 3 minutes, then they handed me my prescription and charged me my copay, w12,000 (about $10 US). So far, so good. My student then walked me down to the pharmacy on the first floor, where they gave us each a candy and filled my prescription in another five minutes. By 11:30 I was at my desk, drinking a bottle of water and taking my first round of antibiotics.
Socialized medicine: not too bad. Now I wonder if Rush Limbaugh was lying to me all those years that he said it was a back door to communism.
Feels good, man.
Busan, Korea, July 11, 2011.
EDIT: I bought this bike, fell in love with it, and then left it chained outside the train station overnight. Someone stole it. I was heartbroken, but I'm over it now. I actually saw a high school boy riding this bike in my neighborhood almost a year later! I started running, tried to chase him down... but he was faster.
Oh, man. What a night. Forgive me for not posting anything recently. I decided to give myself a little time to settle in here. I've been working on post ideas as well as some ideas that might turn into short essays.
One of the thoughts I have been working on over the last month is the idea that "the best way to experience a big city is as a pedestrian with easy access to a subway". I became more and more frustrated with my life as a car owner over the last couple of years--who knows how many hours I have spent in traffic in Dallas and Austin?--and eventually decided that I don't want to own a car again, ever. I think there is still a lot of truth to the pedestrian mindset, but after tonight I can say without a doubt that the best way to experience a big city is on the back of a fixed-gear bicycle.
I found this bicycle through an ad on KoreaBridge (an English-language website). I met the guy who is selling it last week (he's leaving Korea after 2 years to go mountain climbing in Nepal, move back to Minnesota, and get married? Or something like that.) and the bike was a really good deal, so I had to buy it. But my only access to cash has been through the ATM, w300,000 at a time (about $275). Anyway, after three transactions this weekend, I had enough cash, so he met me at the subway stop by my apartment tonight at 8:45pm and gave me the bike.
After a quick trip to the apartment to change clothes, I was ready for a ride. I decided to take the subway to Gwangalli beach (about a 15 minute ride). I had texted a friend of mine, Sung, who has a fixie, that I was going to the beach. I saw him there and we talked for a few minutes. He gave me directions for how to ride to Haeundae beach, and he went home to sleep (he works at 7AM).
I rode out to Haeundae Beach by myself, a nice little ride, and at a decent pace. I went to this bar I know, Drunken Shrimp, and the owner made me her specialty, called.... that's right, drunken shrimp. With a late dinner under my belt, I decided to go to for a relaxing ride on the boardwalk. I saw a couple of guys with their fixed gear bikes, and they said something as I rode past them. After a few minutes I went down to the subway station.
And got there about 3 minutes after the last subway left. Burn. Not knowing what else to do, I bought a bottle of Makkali (Korean rice wine) and went back to the beach. I spent about a half hour listening to a group of guys with guitars and drums playing what I think was traditional Korean music. It definitely got a great response from the crowd, especially when an old man gave them each a can of Hite beer when they finished a song everyone seemed to know.
I decided to have a look around, and I saw the two guys on fixies from before, looking like they were getting ready to go. "Where are you going?" "Uhh..." The universal response of a Korean who doesn't speak English very well. We figured out that they were going back to Gwangalli Beach, so I said, "I ride with you."
These dudes are fast. On the boardwalk, on the bike trails, and on the road, we rode as fast as we could from there to the other beach. We were whooping and hollering, it was so much fun! Then we stopped to catch our breath. I drank a bottle of water. They each drank an OP beer. Their names are Moon and Hyun. Moon is a graphic designer, and lives in Muncheon (on the way to my apartment). Hyun is a barber and lives in Danggam-Dong, which is actually the same neighborhood where my school is! Really great guys. We talked for a few minutes, took these pictures, and then rode the rest of the way back. Moon found out I was from Texas so he started shouting "Yee-Haw" when he was riding really fast. He pointed at his bicycle and said, "It is a horse!"
Hyun rode me all the way back to my apartment. There's no way I would have found my way home tonight without him. I was prepared to pay for a motel room. Something better than that happened, though. It was a great time. I have never had this much fun on a bicycle before. I plan to do it again really soon, hopefully Friday, if the weather is nice. I'm not even sure how many kilometers I rode tonight... 20? 30? Dunno. I got on the bike around 10pm and got back to the house a little after 2am. Feels good, man.
EDIT: I bought this bike, fell in love with it, and then left it chained outside the train station overnight. Someone stole it. I was heartbroken, but I'm over it now. I actually saw a high school boy riding this bike in my neighborhood almost a year later! I started running, tried to chase him down... but he was faster.
Oh, man. What a night. Forgive me for not posting anything recently. I decided to give myself a little time to settle in here. I've been working on post ideas as well as some ideas that might turn into short essays.
One of the thoughts I have been working on over the last month is the idea that "the best way to experience a big city is as a pedestrian with easy access to a subway". I became more and more frustrated with my life as a car owner over the last couple of years--who knows how many hours I have spent in traffic in Dallas and Austin?--and eventually decided that I don't want to own a car again, ever. I think there is still a lot of truth to the pedestrian mindset, but after tonight I can say without a doubt that the best way to experience a big city is on the back of a fixed-gear bicycle.
I found this bicycle through an ad on KoreaBridge (an English-language website). I met the guy who is selling it last week (he's leaving Korea after 2 years to go mountain climbing in Nepal, move back to Minnesota, and get married? Or something like that.) and the bike was a really good deal, so I had to buy it. But my only access to cash has been through the ATM, w300,000 at a time (about $275). Anyway, after three transactions this weekend, I had enough cash, so he met me at the subway stop by my apartment tonight at 8:45pm and gave me the bike.
After a quick trip to the apartment to change clothes, I was ready for a ride. I decided to take the subway to Gwangalli beach (about a 15 minute ride). I had texted a friend of mine, Sung, who has a fixie, that I was going to the beach. I saw him there and we talked for a few minutes. He gave me directions for how to ride to Haeundae beach, and he went home to sleep (he works at 7AM).
I rode out to Haeundae Beach by myself, a nice little ride, and at a decent pace. I went to this bar I know, Drunken Shrimp, and the owner made me her specialty, called.... that's right, drunken shrimp. With a late dinner under my belt, I decided to go to for a relaxing ride on the boardwalk. I saw a couple of guys with their fixed gear bikes, and they said something as I rode past them. After a few minutes I went down to the subway station.
And got there about 3 minutes after the last subway left. Burn. Not knowing what else to do, I bought a bottle of Makkali (Korean rice wine) and went back to the beach. I spent about a half hour listening to a group of guys with guitars and drums playing what I think was traditional Korean music. It definitely got a great response from the crowd, especially when an old man gave them each a can of Hite beer when they finished a song everyone seemed to know.
I decided to have a look around, and I saw the two guys on fixies from before, looking like they were getting ready to go. "Where are you going?" "Uhh..." The universal response of a Korean who doesn't speak English very well. We figured out that they were going back to Gwangalli Beach, so I said, "I ride with you."
These dudes are fast. On the boardwalk, on the bike trails, and on the road, we rode as fast as we could from there to the other beach. We were whooping and hollering, it was so much fun! Then we stopped to catch our breath. I drank a bottle of water. They each drank an OP beer. Their names are Moon and Hyun. Moon is a graphic designer, and lives in Muncheon (on the way to my apartment). Hyun is a barber and lives in Danggam-Dong, which is actually the same neighborhood where my school is! Really great guys. We talked for a few minutes, took these pictures, and then rode the rest of the way back. Moon found out I was from Texas so he started shouting "Yee-Haw" when he was riding really fast. He pointed at his bicycle and said, "It is a horse!"
Hyun rode me all the way back to my apartment. There's no way I would have found my way home tonight without him. I was prepared to pay for a motel room. Something better than that happened, though. It was a great time. I have never had this much fun on a bicycle before. I plan to do it again really soon, hopefully Friday, if the weather is nice. I'm not even sure how many kilometers I rode tonight... 20? 30? Dunno. I got on the bike around 10pm and got back to the house a little after 2am. Feels good, man.
The Code of the Waygook, Vol. 1
Busan, Korea, June 21, 2011.
"Waygook" is a word that you have not likely heard unless you spend a good deal of time around Koreans or Westerners (mostly Americans and Canadians, but some Britis, Kiwis and Aussies, too) who have lived in Korea. There is a word in Korean for "foreigner"--"waygookin". I'm pretty sure it literally means "anyone who is not Korean". But of course they have specific names for Chinese and Japanese, so "waygookin" is really the word they use for us. In the same way that Koreans make up their own variations on English words, the expat community has adopted "Waygook" as our own identity. So you can say, using the word as a noun, "We partied with some waygooks in Kyungsung last night until the sun came up" or you can even use it as a verb: "Let's waygook that subway car".
I think I learned a lot about living in Korea from reading waygooks' blogs. Certain things seem to always come up. Koreans like spicy food. But for someone who grew up on Tex-Mex and loves Indian food, it's not really that spicy. Koreans seem really concerned about whether a waygook can handle their food. I ate some spicy chicken last night with Won Young. She was like, "I hope it's not too spicy for you!" I had to explain to her: it's not that big a deal. If I couldn't handle spicy foods, I would have told you. But their spicy chicken is not as spicy as what you get at Wing Stop or (god forbid, I hate this place) Hooters.
There seems to be a code that the Waygook lives by. Whenever one waygook moves out of an apartment, he or she usually leaves some necessities there for the waygook moving in, which is helpful when you just moved to a different continent and don't speak the language. Here in Busan we have an English-langauge website, Pusanweb (I'll explain it in a different post, but in Korean, "b" and "p" are the same letter, so the city's name is spelled either way). There's a nationwide one called Koreabridge. There's even a web forum for foreign teachers called waygook.org. On each of these sites, it is really common to find classifieds. "I bought this iPod touch for $329 about 6 months ago and I barely used it. I'll sell it to you for $250." or "Moving this weekend! I need to sell my TV, bed, books, guitar, Microwave and 2 clothes racks."
It seems to me that the Waygook is always looking out for the next guy or gal. And I appreciate that. I am, as most of my friends and family know, addicted to coffee. It's been a little of a challenge this week. There's Krispy Kreme and Starbucks, but I don't usually feel like dropping 3,300 won (about $3) everytime I need a fix. So I have been dangerously undercaffienated for much of my first 10 days on the peninsula. But have no fear, there's a fellow waygook ready to take care of me! I saw an ad on Pusanweb yesterday morning for a TEFAL coffee machine, 20,000 won (about $18 or so). I texted the number, and finally talked to the machine's current owner last night right as I was sitting down to spicy chicken dinner with Won Young. I told him I would try to take the subway over to Gwangan and pick it up, but I didn't make it over last night.
I called the guy back today when I got off work and rode the subway over there. He met me at the top of the steps with a coffee maker in a nice bag and a smile on his face. He introduced himself as Jan, said he was from Northern Canada (almost to the territories), was an art teacher at one of the universities and had been here for about 5 years. I said living on the beach is probably more comfortable than Northern Canada. We shot the shit for a minute, then I went back down the stairs with my new coffee machine. Good to go.
"Waygook" is a word that you have not likely heard unless you spend a good deal of time around Koreans or Westerners (mostly Americans and Canadians, but some Britis, Kiwis and Aussies, too) who have lived in Korea. There is a word in Korean for "foreigner"--"waygookin". I'm pretty sure it literally means "anyone who is not Korean". But of course they have specific names for Chinese and Japanese, so "waygookin" is really the word they use for us. In the same way that Koreans make up their own variations on English words, the expat community has adopted "Waygook" as our own identity. So you can say, using the word as a noun, "We partied with some waygooks in Kyungsung last night until the sun came up" or you can even use it as a verb: "Let's waygook that subway car".
I think I learned a lot about living in Korea from reading waygooks' blogs. Certain things seem to always come up. Koreans like spicy food. But for someone who grew up on Tex-Mex and loves Indian food, it's not really that spicy. Koreans seem really concerned about whether a waygook can handle their food. I ate some spicy chicken last night with Won Young. She was like, "I hope it's not too spicy for you!" I had to explain to her: it's not that big a deal. If I couldn't handle spicy foods, I would have told you. But their spicy chicken is not as spicy as what you get at Wing Stop or (god forbid, I hate this place) Hooters.
There seems to be a code that the Waygook lives by. Whenever one waygook moves out of an apartment, he or she usually leaves some necessities there for the waygook moving in, which is helpful when you just moved to a different continent and don't speak the language. Here in Busan we have an English-langauge website, Pusanweb (I'll explain it in a different post, but in Korean, "b" and "p" are the same letter, so the city's name is spelled either way). There's a nationwide one called Koreabridge. There's even a web forum for foreign teachers called waygook.org. On each of these sites, it is really common to find classifieds. "I bought this iPod touch for $329 about 6 months ago and I barely used it. I'll sell it to you for $250." or "Moving this weekend! I need to sell my TV, bed, books, guitar, Microwave and 2 clothes racks."
It seems to me that the Waygook is always looking out for the next guy or gal. And I appreciate that. I am, as most of my friends and family know, addicted to coffee. It's been a little of a challenge this week. There's Krispy Kreme and Starbucks, but I don't usually feel like dropping 3,300 won (about $3) everytime I need a fix. So I have been dangerously undercaffienated for much of my first 10 days on the peninsula. But have no fear, there's a fellow waygook ready to take care of me! I saw an ad on Pusanweb yesterday morning for a TEFAL coffee machine, 20,000 won (about $18 or so). I texted the number, and finally talked to the machine's current owner last night right as I was sitting down to spicy chicken dinner with Won Young. I told him I would try to take the subway over to Gwangan and pick it up, but I didn't make it over last night.
I called the guy back today when I got off work and rode the subway over there. He met me at the top of the steps with a coffee maker in a nice bag and a smile on his face. He introduced himself as Jan, said he was from Northern Canada (almost to the territories), was an art teacher at one of the universities and had been here for about 5 years. I said living on the beach is probably more comfortable than Northern Canada. We shot the shit for a minute, then I went back down the stairs with my new coffee machine. Good to go.
A post from last summer
A post from last summer
Sunday, May 30, 2010
(I was in Budapest, Hungary when I wrote this post- GF)
During the past week there have been three or four times when I have realized that this Rush song is playing in my head. I pulled it up a couple of times on the iPod, and this afternoon I reread the lyrics. Neal Peart is a masterful poet, and this song (“Heresy”) is one of his best. Reading it just now brought tears to my eyes.
I was reading a book about the Statue Park and the Communist history of Hungary. I know I can never truly sympathize—and neither can Neal Peart, because he is a Canadian and I am a citizen of the U.S.
However, in walking around this city I am starting to love, and talking to the people I know as friends, I can seek to understand.
The years of 1989 and 1990 must have been an unforgettable time to live in Europe, and a time when the future seemed infinite and indescribable. As I am always joking, “we are living in the future”—this is the Europe that exists 20 years later. I love that the statue park exists as a way for the city of Budapest to say, “This is a part of our past, and a part of our history. We must discuss it openly, and we must never forget where we have been.”
It is a part of my history, too. I can remember crouching under desks in elementary school, the bomb shelter under the Science Place at Fair Park in Dallas, and watching the Berlin wall come down on the news. The question that Peart asks in the song is a great question: “All those precious wasted years—Who will pay?”
It is the right question because the emotional response to the crimes of war, repression, and terror is always the same. “Someone must be punished,” we say, as if the punishment could possibly equal the crime. I remember the U.S. in the months after September 11, 2001. The sentiment was constantly expressed—most eloquently by our own fearless leader, W. “We have to find the evildoers and make them pay.”
The reality, the truth I found on the streets of Baghdad in 2004, is that we all pay. Even those of us who were not responsible for the crimes against humanity that took place behind the Iron Curtain, on the morning of September 11, or in the “liberation” of Iraq have to deal with the aftermath. We have to pick up the broken pieces of our lives and work toward a better future.
I can see the scars of the war and the Iron Curtain on this city. The bridges were rebuilt, but the lives that could have been can never be brought back. I see the scars when I look in the mirror. I can never change the man I have been. Wherever I go, whatever I do with my life, I am still the guy who pointed a pistol at a kid in Sadr City.
Who will pay? Me. You. All of us.
“Heresy”Lyrics By Neal Peart(this song was released on the 1991 album “Roll the Bones”)
All around that dull gray world
From Moscow to Berlin
People storm the barricades
Walls go tumbling in
The counter-revolution
People smiling through their tears
Who can give them back their lives
And all those wasted years?
All those precious wasted years —
Who will pay?
All around that dull gray world
Of ideology
People storm the marketplace
And buy up fantasy
The counter-revolution
At the counter of a store
People buy the things they want
And borrow for a little more
All those wasted years
All those precious wasted years
Who will pay?
Do we have to be forgiving at last?
What else can we do?
Do we have to say goodbye to the past?
Yes I guess we do
All around this great big world
All the crap we had to take
Bombs and basement fallout shelters
All our lives at stake
The bloody revolution
All the warheads in its wake
All the fear and suffering
All a big mistake
All those wasted years
All those precious wasted years
Who will pay?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
(I was in Budapest, Hungary when I wrote this post- GF)
During the past week there have been three or four times when I have realized that this Rush song is playing in my head. I pulled it up a couple of times on the iPod, and this afternoon I reread the lyrics. Neal Peart is a masterful poet, and this song (“Heresy”) is one of his best. Reading it just now brought tears to my eyes.
I was reading a book about the Statue Park and the Communist history of Hungary. I know I can never truly sympathize—and neither can Neal Peart, because he is a Canadian and I am a citizen of the U.S.
However, in walking around this city I am starting to love, and talking to the people I know as friends, I can seek to understand.
The years of 1989 and 1990 must have been an unforgettable time to live in Europe, and a time when the future seemed infinite and indescribable. As I am always joking, “we are living in the future”—this is the Europe that exists 20 years later. I love that the statue park exists as a way for the city of Budapest to say, “This is a part of our past, and a part of our history. We must discuss it openly, and we must never forget where we have been.”
It is a part of my history, too. I can remember crouching under desks in elementary school, the bomb shelter under the Science Place at Fair Park in Dallas, and watching the Berlin wall come down on the news. The question that Peart asks in the song is a great question: “All those precious wasted years—Who will pay?”
It is the right question because the emotional response to the crimes of war, repression, and terror is always the same. “Someone must be punished,” we say, as if the punishment could possibly equal the crime. I remember the U.S. in the months after September 11, 2001. The sentiment was constantly expressed—most eloquently by our own fearless leader, W. “We have to find the evildoers and make them pay.”
The reality, the truth I found on the streets of Baghdad in 2004, is that we all pay. Even those of us who were not responsible for the crimes against humanity that took place behind the Iron Curtain, on the morning of September 11, or in the “liberation” of Iraq have to deal with the aftermath. We have to pick up the broken pieces of our lives and work toward a better future.
I can see the scars of the war and the Iron Curtain on this city. The bridges were rebuilt, but the lives that could have been can never be brought back. I see the scars when I look in the mirror. I can never change the man I have been. Wherever I go, whatever I do with my life, I am still the guy who pointed a pistol at a kid in Sadr City.
Who will pay? Me. You. All of us.
“Heresy”Lyrics By Neal Peart(this song was released on the 1991 album “Roll the Bones”)
All around that dull gray world
From Moscow to Berlin
People storm the barricades
Walls go tumbling in
The counter-revolution
People smiling through their tears
Who can give them back their lives
And all those wasted years?
All those precious wasted years —
Who will pay?
All around that dull gray world
Of ideology
People storm the marketplace
And buy up fantasy
The counter-revolution
At the counter of a store
People buy the things they want
And borrow for a little more
All those wasted years
All those precious wasted years
Who will pay?
Do we have to be forgiving at last?
What else can we do?
Do we have to say goodbye to the past?
Yes I guess we do
All around this great big world
All the crap we had to take
Bombs and basement fallout shelters
All our lives at stake
The bloody revolution
All the warheads in its wake
All the fear and suffering
All a big mistake
All those wasted years
All those precious wasted years
Who will pay?
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