Jethro Tull все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Did you hear mother --
saying I'm wrong but I know I'm right.
Did you hear father?
Calling my name into the night.
Saying I'll never be what I am now.
Telling me I'll never find what I've already found.
It was they who were wrong,
and for them here's a song.

Come running. Go for overkill. If you don't come now,
I'll be over the hill, all right?
Tell me, "All right.''
Got a sell-by date. Soon be out of stock.
Pop me in your trolley you can start my clock. Well, all right?
Tell me, "All right.''
I could be on your shelf, could be the risk you take.
I'm a cup of hot coffee, I'm a piece of cake.

I have to call you up. Think I've seen a vision of rhythm in gold.
No cat could ever move that way. No puss would dare to be so bold.
Must tell the boys to follow you.
Catch you where you go to ground.
A lady of means, I can see. Rhythm in gold is getting to me.
What's your name, and where can I find you?

Are you just a rich man's friend, or was it always in the family?

01. The Clasp
02. Hunting Girl
03. Fallen On Hard Times
04. Pussy Willow
05. Broadsword
06. One Brown Mouse
07. Seal Driver
08. Watching Me Watching You

01-this_is_not_love
02-occasional_demons
03-roll_yer_own
04-rocks_on_the_road
05-sparrow_on_the_schoolyard_wall
06-thinking_round_corners
07-still_loving_you_tonight
08-doctor_to_my_disease

01-in_a_stone_circle
02-in_sight_of_the_minaret
03-in_a_black_box
04-in_the_grip_of_stronger_stuff
05-in_maternal_grace
06-in_the_moneylenders_temple
07-in_defence_of_faiths
08-at_their_fathers_knee

01. From A Pebble Thrown
02. Pebbles Instrumental
03. Banker Bets, Banker Wins
04. Swing It Far
05. Adrift And Dumbfounded
06. Old School Song
07. Wooton Bassett Town
08. Power And Spirit

You're taking chances.
And your reputation's going down.
Going out in the night-time.
You think you make no sound.
But you don't fool me.
`Cos I know what you feel.
If you ignore the things I say --
someday soon's gonna find you

Roll yer own. Don't mean you got no money.
Only that you got no opportunity to shake it with that friend of mine.
Roll yer own if you can't buy readymade;
you won't be satisfied when you feel the sudden need
to unwind.
You know what moves you in the wee hours
when there's nothing on the answerphone.
And if you don't get enough of that electric love

Wond'ring aloud --
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset --
my hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our hearts beating life
into each other.

Six o'clock in the morning
Wake up by the bed
There sits a Japanese toy
And I like it
See the name on the wrapping
Can't read yet but I know
it's made for me (lucky boy)
And I want it

Take you to the cinema
and leave you in a Wimpy Bar --
you tell me that we've gone to far --
come running up to me.
Make the scene at Cousin Jack's --
leave him put the bottles back --
mends his glasses that I cracked --
well that one's up to me.

All the places I've been make it hard to begin
to enjoy life again on the inside,
but I mean to.
Take a walk around the block
and be glad that I've got me some time
to be in from the outside,
and inside with you.

What a sight for my eyes to see you in sleep.
Could've startled the sunrise hearing you weep.
You're not seen, you're not heard
but I stand by my word.
Came a thousand miles
just to catch you while you're smiling.

What a day for laughter and walking at night.

Once in Royal David's City stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby.
You'd do well to remember the things He later said.
When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties,
You'll laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making;
That Christmas spirit is not what you drink.

My first and last time with you
And we had some fun.
Went walking through the trees, yes,
And I kissed you once.
Oh, I want to see you soon,
But I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday,
But it's an old day now.

A small cigar can change the world
I know, I've done it frequently at parties
Where I've won all the guests' attention
With my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing
A little flat tin case is all you need
Breast-pocket conversation opener
And one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good
You can throw away when empty

A Song Gonna lose my way tomorrow,
gonna give away my car.
I'd take you along with me,
but you would not go so far.
Don't see what I do not want to see,
you don't hear what I don't say.
Won't be what I don't want to be,
I continue in my way.

Once it seemed there would always be
A time for everything
Ages passed I knew at last
My life had never been
I'd been missing what time could bring

Fifty years and I'm filled with tears and joys
I never cried

Nobody sees her here, her eyes are slowly closing.
If she should want some peace, she sits there, without moving,
and puts a pillow over the phone.
And if she feels like dancing no one will know it.
Giving herself a chance there's no need to show her how it should be.

She can't remember now when she was all in pieces.
She's quite content to sit there listening to what he says.

Muscled, black with steel-green eye
Swishing through the rye grass
With thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie.
Tail balancing at half-mast
...and the mouse police never sleeps

Lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.

Hope everybody's ringing on their own bell, this fine morning.
Hope everyone's connected to that long distance phone.
Old man, he's a mountain.
Old man, he's an island.
Old man, he's a-walking says
``I'm going to call, call all my children home.''

Hope everybody's dancing to their own drum this fine morning ---

Wet wind on the sidewalk: I'm staring at the rain.
Walking up the street, yeah, and walking down again.
And my feet are tired and my brain is numb.
See that broken neon sign saying, hey, in you come.

Got the scent of stale beer hanging, hanging round my head.
Old dog in the corner sleeping like he could be dead.
A book of matches and a full ashtray.

Sailing round the true-blue sphere
Is it too late to bale out of here?
Well, there has to be some better way
To turn back the night,
Spin on to yesterday.

The old man and his crew
After all these years,

Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I'm not intending to go far away.
I'm just slipping through to the back room
I'll leave you messages almost every day.

And who was I to last forever?
I didn't promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I'm not intending to go far away
I'm just slipping through to the back room
I'll leave you messages almost every day

And who was I to last forever?
I didn't promise to stay the pace
Not in this lifetime, babe, but we'll cling together

My telephone wakes me in the morning --
have to get up to answer the call.
So I think I'll go back to the family
where no one can ring me at all.
Living this life has its problems
so I think that I'll give it a break.
Oh, I'm going back to the family
`cos I've had about all I can take.

In and out of the front door,
Ran twelve back-door angels.
Their hair was a golden-brown
They didn't see me wink my eye.

'Tis said they put we men to sleep
With just a whisper,
And touch the heads of dying dogs

1) Baker Street Muse

Windy bus-stop, click, shop-window, heel
Shady gentleman, fly-button, feel.
In the underpass the blind man stands
With cold flute hands

Symphony match-seller, breath out of time

From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth,
Long murky middle-age and final hours long in the tooth,
He is the hundred names of terror, creature you love the least.
Picture his name before you and exorcise the beast.

He roved up and down through history spectre with tales to tell.
In the darkness when the campfire's dead to each his private hell.
If you look behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes to feast,

Have you ever stood in the April wood
And called the new year in
While are the phantoms of three thousand years
Rise as the dead leaves spin?

There's a snap in the grass behind your feet
And a tap upon your shoulder,
And the thin wind crawls along your neck;

"Bends Like A Willow":

She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes.
It's a sensitive passage she's sailing -
Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings.

She rises before me, reading me clearly.
Empty nest left pressed in the pillow.

Small child messing down, messing down.
in the streets of Bombay.
Cities like this have no shame, no shame;
indeed, why should they?
Out in the middle distance, several tragedies are playing.
I'm beside myself.

Big sister, can you hear him, can you hear him?

Got a birthday card at Christmas:
It made me think of Jesus Christ.
It said, "I love you" in small letters.
I simply had to read it twice.
Wood smoke curled from blackened chimneys.
The smell of frost was in the air.
Pole star hovered in the blackness.
I looked again: it wasn't there.

Hand in the snake pit - black mamba chase.
Head through the lion's cage - head on a plate.
Two feet on the hot coals - last dance at the ball.
Blindfold on the tightrope - whenever you call.
Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me.

Dark thoughts of the sleepless - hung out to dry.
Slip through the bedclothes - unblinking eye.

Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing.
Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake.
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns flattened, fists whaling,
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake.

And it's "All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car."

I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile

Walking through forests of palm tree apartments ---
Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents
Down by the waterhole --- drunk every friday ---
Eating their nuts --- saving their raisins for sunday.
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows ---
Theyre fast but theyre lazy, and sleep in green meadows.
Lets bungle in the jungle --- well, thats all right by me.
Im a tiger when I want love,

We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits, gliding
Cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding.
Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel
Afraid to chance a gentle touch, afraid to make the clasp.

In high-rise city canyons dwells the discontent of ages.
On ring roads, nose to bumper crawl
Commuters in their cages.

And ride with us young bonny lass - with the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter - flesh rein bite on an out-size unicorn.
Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a Cold Wind to Valhalla.
And join with us please - Valkyrie maidens cry above the Cold Wind to Valhalla.

Break fast with the Gods. Night angels serve with ice-bound majesty.
Frozen flaking fish raw nerve - in a cup of silver liquid fire.
Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve and light the old Valhalla.

Just a little touch of make-up; just a little touch of bull;
just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul;
you can wear a gold Piaget on your Semaphore wrist;
you can dance the old adage with a dapper new twist.
And you can ring a crown of roses round your cranium,
live and die upon your cross of platinum.
Join the crazed institution of the stars.
Be the man that you think (know) you really are.

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief --
If he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
From a laughing baby's mouth
If he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
But she always plays the game.

Spring light in a hazy May
and a man with a gun at the door
Someone's crawling on the roof above ---
all the media here for the show
I've been waiting for our friends to come
Like spiders down ropes to free-fall
A thirty round clip for a visiting card ---
admit one to the embassy ball

May I make my fond excuses
for the lateness of the hour,
but we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane's flower.
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed the song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

She's really turned on by the television and vice versa
Here's a song called, and it still can be described
Yes, right, rearranged though nevertheless
A new lease on life, in other words, it's just a bit louder
"Dharma for one''

Dharma, seek and you will find
Truth within your mind, Dharma

I've been treated for mild depression
And I've been treated for growing pains.
I've been treated for hallucinations;
Now I can see it all coming again.
Well, you can wind me up.
Yeah, you can slow me down.
You can dig a little, and you can mess me around.
But there's one thing I should tell you,

You ever had a day like I had today,
when things are stacked up bad?
You look around and every face you see
seems guaranteed to send you mad.
And you peer into those hallowed institutions.
And they bark at you from every side.
But the bite goes wide.

It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints of Autumn from the hills.

So punch my name.

Will they ever stop driving me?
Have they ever taken time to see
That I need some rest if I'm to do my best?
Can I please stop working so hard?
They just tell me gotta close it hard.
Got to think of my health.
Can I be myself?

Clear light on a slick palm as I misdeal the day
Slip the night from a shaved pack, make a marked card play
Call twilight hours down from a heaven home
High above the highest bidder for the good Lord's throne

In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill
Oh and we'll watch the old gods play by Dun Ringill
By Dun Ringill

El Nino
El Nino

As one, wet merchants turn their eyes towards the west.
Trade winds falter as if in dire consequence.
Freezing fish to fry, fail to materialise.
Christ-child, blood-warm current sends to touch the skies.

Nine miles of two-strand topped with barbed wire
laid by the father for the son.
Good shelter down there on the valley floor,
down by where the sweet stream run.

Now they might gave me compensation...
That's not what I'm chasing -
I was a rich man before yesterday!

Don't want to be a fat man,
people would think that I was
just good fun.
Would rather be a thin man,
I am so glad to go on being one.
Too much to carry around with you,
no chance of finding a woman who
will love you in the morning and all the night time too.

I believe in fires at midnight, when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle; a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken mist outside the window -
Frogs and newts slip in the dark.
Too much hurry ruins a body:
I'll sit easy; fan the spark.

Kindled by the dying embers, of another working day.

Shout if you will, but that just won't do.

I, for one, would rather follow softer options.

I'll take the easy line; another sip of wine,

and if I ignore the face you wore it's just a way of

Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending
Children on the cold sea swell
Not fishers of men
Gone to chase away the last herring:
Come empty home again.
So come all you lovers of the good life
On your supermarket run

Did you hear mother
saying I'm wrong but I know I'm right.
Did you hear father?
Calling my name into the night.
Saying I'll never be what I am now.
Telling me I'll never find what I've already found.
It was they who were wrong,
and for them here's a song.

Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line
No fanfare, just a blip on the screen.
No quick conclusions now everything will be fine,
Short-circuit glitch and not what it seems.
Fylingdale Flyer you're only half way there,
Green screen liar for a second or so we were running scared.

On late shift, feeling drowsy eyes glued to the display.

Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.

As the dawn sun breaks over sleepy gardens
I'll be here to do all things to comfort you.
And though I've been away,
Left you alone this way,
Why don't you come awake
And let your first smile take me home?

The shadows in the park were longer yesterday

Hot mango flush.
Ladies with ice cream hair -
Gyroscopic pink neon beams -
Everybody's happy about something.
The crowd moves like a flock of startings: they
switch direction as one.
Jive on the jukebox - Jack and Joker
split the night air with whoop and holler.

One day I walked the road and crossed a field
to go by where the hounds ran hard.
And on the master raced: behind the hunters chased
to where the path was barred.
One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear.
I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared.

Crop handle carved in bone;

Got a grand house out in the country.
Marble pillars holding the door.
Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before.
Got a Roller out in the garage.
But the wheels are stuck to the floor.
Got no reason to go anywhere--no friends call anymore.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, But I don't want to be me.

Jack Frost And The Hooded Crow
(Ian Anderson)

Ian Anderson: vocals, flute, mandolin
Martin Barre: electric guitar
Doane Perry: drums and percussion
Andrew Giddings: keyboards, bass

Have you seen Jack-in-the-Green?
With his long tail hanging down.

He sits quietly under every tree
In the folds of his velvet gown.
He drinks from the empty acorn cup.
The dew that dawn sweetly bestows.
And taps his cane upon the ground -

Bright city woman
walking down Leicester Square everyday.
Gonna get a piece of my mind.
You think you're not a piece of my kind.
Ev'rywhere the people looking.
Why don't you get up and sing?

Bright city woman

There were three men, came out of the west,
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn must die!
Well, they’ve ploughed, they’ve sown, the’ve harrowed him in.
Threw clouds upon his head.
Till these three men were satisfied.
John Barleycorn was dead.

Spine-tingling railway sleepers
Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm.
Orange beams divide the darkness

Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm.
Sliding through Victorian tunnels
Where green moss oozes from the pores.
Dull echoes from the wet embankments

There was a warm wind with the high tide
On the south side of the hill,
When a young girl went a-walking
And I followed with a will
Good day to you, my fine young lady
With your lips so sweetly full
May I help you comb your long hair
Sweep it from that brow so cool?

Breaking hearts in a market town. She eats filet of sole
and washes it down with sparkling wine.
Nice girl, but a bad girl's better. Qualifies in both ways
to my mind. But now she's kissing Willie.

She shows a leg --- shows it damn well. Knows how to drive a man
right back to being a child.
Well, she's a --- nice girl, but her bad girl's better. I can read

Later, that same evening, she ran.
I think she ran alone.
Later, she had early warning from
a hidden phone.
Checked with the embassy ---
she might have been
a million miles away.
Should I circulate her likeness

When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day
And you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say,
Well, don't you fret, dont you fear,
I will give you good cheer.

Life's a long song.

If you wait then your plate I will fill.

Well, I don't care to eat out in smart restaurants.
I'd rather do a Vindaloo: take away is what I want.
I was down at the old Bengal, having telephoned a treat
when I saw her framed in the kitchen door.
She looked good enough to eat.
(And I mean eat.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.

Happy and I'm smiling,
walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
and above you there's no other.
We'll go walking out
while others shout of war's disaster.
Oh, we won't give in,
let's go living in the past.

n the shuffling madness of the locomotive breath
runs the alltime loser headlong to his death.
Oh
he feels the piston scraping
steam breaking on his brow.
Old Charlie stole the handle
and the train

In the shuffling madess
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all-time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping
steam breaking on his brow
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going

Took a sad song of one sweet evening
I smiled and quickly turned away.
It's not easy singing sad songs
but still the easiest way I have to say.
So when you look into the sun
and see the things we haven't done --
oh was it better then to run
than to spend the summer crying.

I get lost in crowds: if I can, I remain invisible
to the hungry mouths. I stay unapproachable.
I wear the landscape of the urban chameleon.
Scarred by attention. And quietly addicted to innocence.

So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you.
So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to.
And why not try to interrogate this apparition?

Going back in the morning time
To see if my love has changed her mind, yeah.
I know what i will find
That she is wasting time,
She could be picking roses.

Going back in the morning time
To see if my love has seen the light, yeah.

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

В парке на скамейке.
Смотрит на девчонок, грязны мысли,
А сопли текут рекой.
О лохмотья вытирает их рукой.
Под солнцем холодным
Смотрит на трусики взглядом голодным.
На него все напасти,
И плюет он осколки разбитого счастья.

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the
smiling faces.
He met the gazes --- observed the spaces between the
old men's cackle.
He brewed a song of love and hatred --- oblique
suggestions --- and he waited.
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters --- static-humming
panel-beaters --- freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters

As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
I came upon Mother Goose--
so I turned her loose--
she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me--
was it really true
there are elephants and lions too
in Piccadilly Circus?

The leaded window opened
To move the dancing candle flame
And the first moths of summer
Suicidal came.

And a new breeze chattered
In its may-bud tenderness
Sending water-lillies sailing

People - what have you done
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything
He's inside you and me.

My Sunday feeling is coming on, over me
My Sunday feeling is coming on, over me
Now, that the night is over, got to clear my head, so I can see
Till I get to put together, well, that old feeling won't let me be

Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
I really don't remember but with one more cigarette, I think I might

Black and viscous bound to cure blue lethargy
Sugar plum petroleum for energy
Tight rope balanced payments needs a small reprieve
Oh, please, believe, we want to be...

In north sea
In north sea oil

Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.

When tension starts mounting

Everyday there's someone asking
what is there to do?
Should I love or should I fight
is it all the same to you?
No I say I have the answer
proven to be true,
But if I were to share it with you,
you would stand to gain

Well, you got a big-jib crane waiting to pick you up.
Mmmm, you see those snakes that crawl, they're just dying
To trip you up.
Live out in sad shacks at the back of town.
Hold your breath while we do you down
`cos we're all kinds of animals coming here:
Occasional demons too.

Smile your little smile --- take some tea with me awhile.
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder.
Twitch your whiskers. Feel that you're really real.
Another tea-time --- another day older.

Puff warm breath on your tiny hands.
You wish you were a man
who every day can turn another page.

A one, two, three.
There's a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way -
And there's a note on the telephone - some roses on a tray.
And the motorway's stretching right out to us all, as I pull on my old
Wings - one white duck on your wall.
Isn't it just too damn real? one white duck on your wall.
One duck on your wall.

Brain-storming, habit-forming, battle-warning, weary,
winsome actor spewing spineless chilling lines.
The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
and really not an awful lot of fun'.
Well who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D.,
and he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Court-jesting, never-resting he must be very cunning
to assume an air of dignity

Orion, won’t you give me your star sign
Orion, get up on the sky-line
I’m high on my hill and I feel fine
Orion, let’s sip the heaven’s heady wine
Orion, light your lights:
Come guard the open spaces
From the black horizon to the pillow where I lie.
Your faithful dog shines brighter than it’s lord and master

Glued to the kerbstone, staring.
Frozen at the stop-sign too.
See that crazy suicide mongrel.
He's going to try to cross that avenue.
Old dog of experience,
Ripping through the black and yellow cabs,
Dodging rickshaws and the bicycle boys.
He's got his mind on someone else's dinner

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

Now if you think Ray blew it,
there was nothing to it.
They patched him up as good as new.
You can see him every day ---
riding down the queen's highway,
handing out his small cigars to the kids from school.
And all the little girls with their bleached blond curls
clump up on their platform soles.

They said protect and you'll survive —
(but our postman didn't call)
8lbs. of over-pressure wave seemed to glue him to the wall
They said protect and you'll survive

E.M.P. took out the radio —
(and our milk-man didn't call)
Flash blinded by the pretty lights,

In the half-tone light of a young morning
she sighs and shifts on the pillow.
And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly
to kiss the Pussy Willow.

In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing
in a sad voice nobody hears.

Through northern lights on back streets
I told the coachman: Just drive me on!
It's the same old destination
But a different world to sing upon

So he threw back his head and he counted
I jumped out about five to nine
And I waved at the stage door keeper

Over high plains, through the snow...
roll those tracks out, don't you know
I'm raising steam.
Thin vein creeping; hot blood flow...

spill a little where the new towns grow.
I got my whole life hanging in a sack,
heading out into that wide world wide.

What a sight for my eyes
to see you in sleep.
Could it stop the sun rise
hearing you weep?
You're not seen, you're not heard
but I stand by my word.
Came a thousand miles
just to catch you while you're smiling.

Now is the solstice of the year.
winter is the glad song that you hear.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Have the lads up ready in a line.

Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.

There's a black cat down on the quayside.
Ship's lights, green eyes glowing in the dark.
Two young cops handing out a beating:
know how to hurt and leave no mark.
Down in the half-lit bar of the hotel
there's a call for the last round of the day.
Push back the stool, take that elevator ride.
Fall in bed and kick my shoes away.

Words get written. Words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches. See gentle shadows change
the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.

True disciples carrying that message

She moves with machinery for the fancy sports car trade.
Part of the industrial process: she sees that they stay made.
She works from early A.M.. They work her to the bone.
When I call her in the evening, she's too tired to lift the phone.

Damned if I'll wait for her, and I'll be damned if I don't.
Damned if I only see that Rosa on the factory floor.

She said she was a dancer. If I believed it, it was my busines
She surely knew a thing or two about control.
Next to the bar we hit the samovar. She almost slipped right through my fingers.
It was snowing outside and in her soul.

Well, maybe you're a dancer, and maybe I'm the King of Old Siam.
I thought it through... best to let the illusion roll.
I wouldn't say I've never heard that tale before,

Singing all day, singing `bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing `bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing `bout nothing,
oo, my, my, my,
oo, my, my, my.

Went down to the station to look for her there,
looked through the crowds for a glimpse of her hair,

Meanwhile back in the year One,
when you belonged to no-one,
you didn't stand a chance son,
if your pants were undone.
`Cause you were bred for humanity
and sold to society
one day you'll wake up
in the Present Day

Meanwhile back in the year one - when you belonged to no-one -
You didn't stand a chance son, if your pants were undone.
`cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society -
One day you'll wake up in the present day -
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be.
Skating away -
Skating away -

Meanwhile back in the year one,
When you belonged to no one,
You didn't stand a chance, son,
If your pants were undone.

'Cause you were bred for humanity
And sold to society.
One day you'll wake up in the present day,

Her love is like a candle: you light it up at night.

Her heart is like a pack of cards: one chance to guess it right.

Sometimes I do.

Shes got a tongue like a viper, but she can whisper like a dove.

Would you join a slow marching band?
And take pleasure in your leaving
As the ferry sails and tears are dried
And cows come home at evening

Could you get behind a slow marching band?
And join together in the passing
Of all we shared through yesterdays

Brain-storming, habit-forming,
Battle-warning weary winsome actor
Spewing spineless chilling lines.
The critics falling over to tell themselves
He's boring and really not an awful lot of fun.
Well, who the hell can he be when
He's never had V.D.,
And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?

In the morning gonna get my things together
Packing up and leave this place
I don't believe you'll cry, there'll be a smile upon your face

I didn't think how much you hurt me
That's something I laugh about
Bring in the good times, baby, and let the bad times out

Let me bring you songs from the wood:
To make you feel much better than you could know.
Dust you down from tip to toe.
Show you how the garden grows.
Hold you steady as you go.
Join the chorus if you can:
It'll make of you an honest man.
Let me bring you love from the field:

You want to be a bookworm? you wanna be aloof?
You wanna sit in judgement, looking down from the roof?
Try a wee sensation: but first you have to want to join in.
You should be, should be raging down the freeway
With some friends from the mall.
Dont stay forever in your limbo: fly before you fall
Little sparrow on the schoolyard wall.

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue -
Lined with poppy girls.
I didn't stop, stop to say hello.
Curious vendors - waving bric-a-brac -
Looked me over -
Thought it best, best that I should go.

Don't wake me: I'm falling.

As the moon slips up, and the sun sets down,
I'm a highrise jockey, and I'm heaven-bound.
Do the workboot shuffle, loose brains from brawn.
I'm a monkey puzzle and the lid is on.

Can you guess my name? Can you guess my trade?
I'm going to catch you anyway.
You might be right. I'll give you guesses three.

I said, they call it stormy Monday
But I said, the Tuesday's just as bad
I said, they call it stormy Monday
Tuesday's just as bad

Wednesday's full of sorrow
I said that Thursday's oh-so
It's oh-so-sad, it's oh-so-sad

"Странные улицы"


Странные улицы, где теряешь всякое понятие о направлении.
Повсюду одна Мейн-стрит в лучах зимнего солнца.
Ветер дремлет - холодный берег с тянущимися по нему деловым районом.
Похоже на обложку диска 1971 года.

Fish and chips, sandpaper lips and a rainy pavement.
Soho lights, another night thinking of you.
Black cat, sat on a wall, winks at me darkly.
Suggesting ways and means that I might win a smile,
as you leave the place where you work until 12.30
and the policemen nods as you pass along his beat.
Sweaty feet, troubled brow we're all in the same game, lady.
Life's no bowl of cherries it's a black and white strip cartoon.

Brings jasmine tea on a painted tray
and bends to kiss my frown away.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain;
stuck out in the cloudburst once again.

The cover's on, the coast is clear.
We're all battened down, only us here.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain;

I once met a girl with the life in her hands
and we lay together on the summerday sands.
I gave her my raincoat and told her, "Lady, be good!''
And we made truth together, where no one else would.
I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands,
the hour-glass of reason on the summerday sands.

We sat as the sea caught fire.

single A-side (p)1969

You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream,
can't hear your daddy's warning cry.
You're going back to be all the things you want to be,
while in sweet dreams you softly sigh.

You hear my voice is calling

Shake a leg, it's the big rush,
can't find a taxi can't find a bus.
Bodies jammed in the underground -
evacuating London town.
Nowhere to put your feet
as the big store shoppers and the pavements meet.
Red lights - pin stripes -
short step shuffle into the night.

Well the dawn was coming,
heard him ringing on my bell.
He said, "My name's the teacher,
that is what I call myself.
And I have a lesson
that I must impart to you.
It's an old expression
but I must insist it's true.

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
All songs written by Anderson unless stated otherwise

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar
John Evan – piano, organ, synthesisers, vocals

A Passion Play
Released: July 1973
Recorded: March 1973
Written Ian Anderson, Jeffrey Hammond, John Evan
Words by Jeffrey Hammond

Ian Anderson – flute, acoustic guitar, saxophones, vocals
Martin Barre – electric guitar

Money speaks
Soft hearts lose
The truth only whispers
It's the whaler's dues

I've been running on diesel
Been running on coal
Running on borrowed time

I'll buy you six bay mares to put in your stable -
six golden apples bought with my pay.
I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune,
but I must be gone by the seventh day.

So come on, I'm the whistler.
I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready for the whistler.

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper - your deafness a shout.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter - your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction the moral melee.

You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.

So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall

Winds howled. Rains spit down.
All these nights playing precious games.
Cheap hotel in some seaboard town
closed down for the winter and whispered names.
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea
snap our heels half-heartedly
and how come you know better than me
that this is not love.

Flying so high, trying to remember:
How many cigarettes did I bring along?
When I get down, I'll jump in a taxi cab
Driving through London town, to cry you a song.

It's been a long time. Still shaking my wings.
Well, I'm a glad bird - I got changes to ring.

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams ---
the transport caf' prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

I'll see you at the Weighing-In,
When your life's sum-total's made:
And you set your wealth in goodly deeds
Against the sins ypu've laid.
And you place your final burden
On your hard-pressed next of kin:
Send the chamber-pot back down the line,
To be filled up again!

I'll take you to the cinema
And leave you in a Wimpy Bar
You tell me that we've gone too far
Come running up to me

Make the scene at Cousin Jack's
Leave him put the bottles back
Mends his glasses that I cracked

Walking on Velvet Green - Scots Pine growing.
Isn't it rare to be taking the air, sinning -
Walking on Velvet Green.

Walking on Velvet Green - distant cows lowing.
Never a care; with your legs in the air, loving -
Walking on Velvet Green.

Whenever I get to feel this way,
try to find new words to say,
I think about the bad old days
we used to know.

Nights of winter turn me cold --
fears of dying, getting old.
We ran the race and the race was won

Weathercock

Good morning Weathercock:
How did you fare last night?
Did the cold wind bite you,
did you face up to the fright
When the leaves spin from October
and whip around your tail?

She drifted from some minor festival.
Didn't look like any summer of love:
Just a thousand weekend warriors in a muddy field.
She was the hand to fit my glove.
Funny thing, the innocence of the lonely.
Funny thing, the charm of the young.

See how she moves just

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question

Lend me your ear while I call you a fool.
You were kissed by a witch one night in the wood,
and later insisted your feelings were true.
The witch's promise was coming, believing he listened while laughing you flew.

Leaves falling red, yellow, brown, all are the same,
and the love you have found lay outside in the rain.
Washed clean by the water but nursing its pain.

Lend me your ear while I call you a fool.
You were kissed by a witch one night in the wood,
And later insisted your feelings were true.

The witches promise was coming,
Believing he listened while laughing you flew.

Leaves falling, red, yellow, brown, all look the same,

In days of peace
sweet smelling summer nights
of wine and song;
dusty pavements burning feet.
Why am I crying, I want to know.
How can I smile and make it right?
For sixty days and eighty nights
and not give in and lose the fight.

There's the stillness of death on a deathly unliving sea,
And the motor car magical world long since ceased to be,
When the Eve-bitten apple returned to destroy the tree.

Incestuous ancestry's charabanc ride,
Spawning new millions throws the world on it's side.
Supporting their far-flung illusion, the national curse,
And those with no sandwiches please get off the bus.

A walk on the quiet side, late in the day --
Don't mean to get in anybody's way.
The Gods seem willing: sun's in the sky.
Old crows cawing as the straight crows fly.
There was a time when love was the law.
There was a time for the tooth and the claw.
Last rites given, no holds barred.
Heaven Express on my credit card.