Jethro Tull
- Začetnik teme fox69
- Datum pokretanja
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"...And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps"
"...And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps"
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.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
leaves the others on the mat.
...And the mouse police never sleeps ---
waiting by the cellar door.
Window-box town crier;
birth and death registrar.
With claws that rake a furrow red ---
licensed to multilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
to dawn patrol on hungry hate.
...No, the mouse police never sleeps ---
climbing on the ivy.
Windy roof-top weathercock.
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.
"...And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps"
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.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
leaves the others on the mat.
...And the mouse police never sleeps ---
waiting by the cellar door.
Window-box town crier;
birth and death registrar.
With claws that rake a furrow red ---
licensed to multilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
to dawn patrol on hungry hate.
...No, the mouse police never sleeps ---
climbing on the ivy.
Windy roof-top weathercock.
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"17"
"17"
I remember when
we had a lot of things to do,
impressed by all the words we read
and the heroes that we knew.
Climb on your your dream,
a dream of our own making
to find a place that we could later lose
to whatever time would bring.
We were seventeen
and the cakeman was affecting you,
moving you to greater things
(in a lesser way) you had to prove.
The clock struck summertime.
You were going round in circles now.
Wishing you were seventeen.
At twenty-one, it was a long time gone.
And now here you are.
You're locked in your own excuse.
The circle's getting smaller every day.
You're busy planning your next fifty years.
So stay the way you are
and keep your head down to the same old ground.
Just paint your picture boy until you find
a closed circle's better than an open line.
Yes stay the way you are.
I got a circle that's the same as yours.
It may be bigger, but I've more to lose.
Who is the luckier man me or you?
"17"
I remember when
we had a lot of things to do,
impressed by all the words we read
and the heroes that we knew.
Climb on your your dream,
a dream of our own making
to find a place that we could later lose
to whatever time would bring.
We were seventeen
and the cakeman was affecting you,
moving you to greater things
(in a lesser way) you had to prove.
The clock struck summertime.
You were going round in circles now.
Wishing you were seventeen.
At twenty-one, it was a long time gone.
And now here you are.
You're locked in your own excuse.
The circle's getting smaller every day.
You're busy planning your next fifty years.
So stay the way you are
and keep your head down to the same old ground.
Just paint your picture boy until you find
a closed circle's better than an open line.
Yes stay the way you are.
I got a circle that's the same as yours.
It may be bigger, but I've more to lose.
Who is the luckier man me or you?
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"4.W.D. (Low Ratio)"
"4.W.D. (Low Ratio)"
Met a man just the other day ---
said his name was Jim. Boy, won't you take a look!
Got a car for you --- it's a real steal
Cleaned it right down --- new brakes, clutch and here's the hook
Yes, it's a 4.W.D. (low ratio)
Cash to Jim. I took it home
through the deep mud. Plugged happy as a boy in sand
Fitted wide tyres, spotlight, a winch as well
and some brush bars up front to complete the plan
Now it's really a 4.W.D. (low ratio)
Take you down to the edge of town
Where the road stops, we start to hold the ground
Well, I'm blessed! Got traction in a special way
Hold the roll bar, slide back, feel me pull it round
Let me show you my 4.W.D. (low ratio)
"4.W.D. (Low Ratio)"
Met a man just the other day ---
said his name was Jim. Boy, won't you take a look!
Got a car for you --- it's a real steal
Cleaned it right down --- new brakes, clutch and here's the hook
Yes, it's a 4.W.D. (low ratio)
Cash to Jim. I took it home
through the deep mud. Plugged happy as a boy in sand
Fitted wide tyres, spotlight, a winch as well
and some brush bars up front to complete the plan
Now it's really a 4.W.D. (low ratio)
Take you down to the edge of town
Where the road stops, we start to hold the ground
Well, I'm blessed! Got traction in a special way
Hold the roll bar, slide back, feel me pull it round
Let me show you my 4.W.D. (low ratio)
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A Christmas Song"
"A Christmas Song"
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.
So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry
and how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.
Hey, Santa... pass us that bottle, will you?
"A Christmas Song"
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.
So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry
and how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.
Hey, Santa... pass us that bottle, will you?
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A Gift Of Roses"
"A Gift Of Roses"
I count the hours... you count the days.
Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play.
Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train
on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.
Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon.
Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part.
Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses...
To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone -
Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone.
But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin.
Light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.
"A Gift Of Roses"
I count the hours... you count the days.
Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play.
Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train
on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.
Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon.
Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part.
Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses...
To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone -
Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone.
But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin.
Light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A New Day Yesterday"
"A New Day Yesterday"
My first and last time with you
and we had some fun.
wenT walking through the trees, yeah!
And then 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.
Spent a long time looking
for a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now
to turn out this way.
Oh I had to leave today
just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday
But it's an old day now.
"A New Day Yesterday"
My first and last time with you
and we had some fun.
wenT walking through the trees, yeah!
And then 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.
Spent a long time looking
for a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now
to turn out this way.
Oh I had to leave today
just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday
But it's an old day now.
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A Passion Play (Part 1)"
"A Passion Play (Part 1)"
[Lifebeats (Instrumental)]
[Prelude (Instrumental)]
[The Silver Cord]
"Do you still see me even here?"
(The silver cord lies on the ground.)
"And so I'm dead", the young man said
over the hill (not a wish away).
My friends (as one) all stand aligned
although their taxis came too late.
There was / a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was / a hush in the Passion Play.
Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath
ripe with rich attainments all imagined
sad misdeeds in disarray
the sore thumb screams aloud,
echoing out of the Passion Play.
All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key...
Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance.
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
into the Ever-passion Play.
And who comes here to wish me well?
A sweetly-scented angel fell.
She laid her head upon my disbelief
and bathed me with her ever-smile.
And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound
NO-ONE (but someone to be found).
[Re-Assuring Tune (Instrumental)]
[Memory Bank]
All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom.
Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? Step into the viewing room.
The cameras were all around.We've got you taped you're in the play.
Here's your I.D. (Ideal for identifying one and all.)
Invest your life in the memory bank ours the interest and we thank you.
The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play.
Take the prize for instant pleasure, captain of the cricket team
public speaking in all weathers, a knighthood from a queen.
[Best Friends]
All your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand.
There's a line in a front-page story, 13 horses that also-ran.
Climb in your old umbrella. Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?
But the rain only gets in sometimes and the sun never leaves you alone,
you alone, you alone, you alone, you alone, you alone.
[Critique Oblique]
Lover of the black and white it's your first night.
The Passion Play, goes all the way, spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid,
why the old dog howls in sadness.
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders
of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
(The examining body examined her body.)
Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeves since your memory won't do.
Tell me: how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded,
why the old dogs howl with madness.
All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat.
And now you've lost a skin or two, you're for us and we for you.
The dressing room is right behind, We've got you taped, you're in the play.
How does it feel to be in the play?
How does it feel to play the play?
How does it feel to be the play?
Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out...
for we do love you like a son, of that there's no doubt.
Tell us: is it you who are here for our good cheer?
Or are we here for the glory, for the story, for the gory satisfaction
of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?
There was / a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was / a hush in the Passion Play.
[Forest Dance #1 (Instrumental)]
"A Passion Play (Part 1)"
[Lifebeats (Instrumental)]
[Prelude (Instrumental)]
[The Silver Cord]
"Do you still see me even here?"
(The silver cord lies on the ground.)
"And so I'm dead", the young man said
over the hill (not a wish away).
My friends (as one) all stand aligned
although their taxis came too late.
There was / a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was / a hush in the Passion Play.
Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath
ripe with rich attainments all imagined
sad misdeeds in disarray
the sore thumb screams aloud,
echoing out of the Passion Play.
All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key...
Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance.
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
into the Ever-passion Play.
And who comes here to wish me well?
A sweetly-scented angel fell.
She laid her head upon my disbelief
and bathed me with her ever-smile.
And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound
NO-ONE (but someone to be found).
[Re-Assuring Tune (Instrumental)]
[Memory Bank]
All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom.
Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? Step into the viewing room.
The cameras were all around.We've got you taped you're in the play.
Here's your I.D. (Ideal for identifying one and all.)
Invest your life in the memory bank ours the interest and we thank you.
The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play.
Take the prize for instant pleasure, captain of the cricket team
public speaking in all weathers, a knighthood from a queen.
[Best Friends]
All your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand.
There's a line in a front-page story, 13 horses that also-ran.
Climb in your old umbrella. Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?
But the rain only gets in sometimes and the sun never leaves you alone,
you alone, you alone, you alone, you alone, you alone.
[Critique Oblique]
Lover of the black and white it's your first night.
The Passion Play, goes all the way, spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid,
why the old dog howls in sadness.
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders
of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
(The examining body examined her body.)
Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeves since your memory won't do.
Tell me: how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded,
why the old dogs howl with madness.
All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat.
And now you've lost a skin or two, you're for us and we for you.
The dressing room is right behind, We've got you taped, you're in the play.
How does it feel to be in the play?
How does it feel to play the play?
How does it feel to be the play?
Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out...
for we do love you like a son, of that there's no doubt.
Tell us: is it you who are here for our good cheer?
Or are we here for the glory, for the story, for the gory satisfaction
of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?
There was / a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was / a hush in the Passion Play.
[Forest Dance #1 (Instrumental)]
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A Passion Play (Part 2)"
"A Passion Play (Part 2)"
[The Story Of The Hare Who Lost His Spectacles]
[Words by Jeffrey Hammond]
[Spoken:]
This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles.
Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching. Sitting on a fence one day,
he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by. Now this may not
seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisper to no one in
particular, "The hare has lost his spectacles," well, he began to wonder.
Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying on the grass
was hare. In the stream that flowed by the grass a newt. And sitting astride a
twig of a bush a bee. Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with
excitement, for without his spectacles he was completely helpless. Where were
his spectacles? Could someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid them? What
was he to do? Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began:
"You probably ate them thinking they were a carrot." "No!" interrupted Owl,
who was wise. "I have good eye-sight, insight, and foresight. How could an
intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?" But all this time, Owl had been
sitting on the fence, scowling! Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk.
She thought herself far superior in intelligence to the others. She was their leader,
their guru. She had the answer: "Hare, you must go in search of the optician."
But then she realized that Hare was completely helpless without his spectacles.
And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare in search of anything!"
"You can guru, you can!" shouted Newt. "You can send him with Owl." But Owl
had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by so small a problem
"You can take him in your pouch." But alas, Hare was much too big to fit into
Kangaroo's pouch. All this time, it had been quite plain to hare that the others
knew nothing about spectacles.
[Sung:] As for all their tempting ideas, well Hare didn't care. The lost spectacles were
his own affair. And after all, Hare did have a spare a-pair. A-pair.
[Forest Dance #2 (Instrumental)]
[The Foot Of Our Stairs]
We sleep by the ever-bright hole in the door,
eat in the corner, talk to the floor,
cheating the spiders who come to say "Please",
(politely). They bend at the knees.
Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Old gentlemen talk of when they were young
of ladies lost and erring sons.
Lace-covered dandies revel (with friends)
pure as the truth, tied at both ends.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Scented cathedral spire pointed down.
We pray for souls in Kentish Town.
A delicate hush the gods, floating by
wishing us well, pie in the sky.
God of ages, Lord of Time, mine is the right to be wrong.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Jack rabbit mister spawn a new breed
of love-hungry pilgrims (no bodies to feed).
Show me a good man and I'll show you the door.
The last hymn is sung and the devil cries "More."
Well, I'm all for leaving and that being done,
I've put in a request to take up my turn
in that forsaken paradise that calls itself "Hell"
where no-one has nothing and nothing is well meaning fool,
pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling.
Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.
[Overseer Overture]
Colours I've none, dark or light, red, white or blue.
Cold is my touch (freezing).
Summoned by name - I am the overseer over you.
Given this command to watch o'er our miserable sphere.
Fallen from grace, called on to bring sun or rain.
Occasional corn from my oversight grew.
Fell with mine angels from a far better place,
offering services for the saving of face.
Now you're here, you may as well admire
all whom living has retired from the benign reconciliation.
Legends were born surrounding mysterious lights
seen in the sky (flashing).
I just lit a fag then took my leave in the blink of an eye.
Passionate play join round the maypole in dance
(primitive rite) (wrongly).
Summoned by name I am the overseer over you.
[Flight From Lucifer]
Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
Here's the everlasting rub... neither am I good or bad.
I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.
I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling.
The flies there are sleeping quietly.
Twist my right arm in the dark.
I would give two or three for
one of those days that never made
impressions on the old score.
I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone's saved we're in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.
Time for awaking the tea lady's making
a brew-up and baking new bread.
Pick me up at half past none
there's not a moment to lose.
There is the train on which I came.
On the platform are my old shoes.
Station master rings his bell.
Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).
I thank everybody
for making me welcome.
I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.
[10.08 To Paddington (Instrumental)]
[Magus Perde]
Hail! Son of kings make the ever-dying sign
cross your fingers in the sky for those about to BE.
There am I waiting along the sand.
Cast your sweet spell upon the land and sea.
Magus Perde, take your hand from off the chain.
Loose a wish to still, the rain, the storm about to BE.
Here am I (voyager into life).
Tough are the soles that tread the knife's edge.
Break the circle,stretch the line, call upon the devil.
Bring the gods, the gods' own fire
In the conflict revel.
The passengers upon the ferry crossing, waiting to be born,
renew the pledge of life's long song rise to the reveille horn.
Animals queueing at the gate that stands upon the shore
breathe the ever-burning fire that guards the ever-door.
Man - son of man - buy the flame of ever-life
(yours to breathe and breath the pain of living)... living BE!
Here am I! Roll the stone away
from the dark into ever-day.
[Epilogue]
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
into the Ever-passion Play.
"A Passion Play (Part 2)"
[The Story Of The Hare Who Lost His Spectacles]
[Words by Jeffrey Hammond]
[Spoken:]
This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles.
Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching. Sitting on a fence one day,
he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by. Now this may not
seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisper to no one in
particular, "The hare has lost his spectacles," well, he began to wonder.
Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying on the grass
was hare. In the stream that flowed by the grass a newt. And sitting astride a
twig of a bush a bee. Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with
excitement, for without his spectacles he was completely helpless. Where were
his spectacles? Could someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid them? What
was he to do? Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began:
"You probably ate them thinking they were a carrot." "No!" interrupted Owl,
who was wise. "I have good eye-sight, insight, and foresight. How could an
intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?" But all this time, Owl had been
sitting on the fence, scowling! Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk.
She thought herself far superior in intelligence to the others. She was their leader,
their guru. She had the answer: "Hare, you must go in search of the optician."
But then she realized that Hare was completely helpless without his spectacles.
And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare in search of anything!"
"You can guru, you can!" shouted Newt. "You can send him with Owl." But Owl
had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by so small a problem
"You can take him in your pouch." But alas, Hare was much too big to fit into
Kangaroo's pouch. All this time, it had been quite plain to hare that the others
knew nothing about spectacles.
[Sung:] As for all their tempting ideas, well Hare didn't care. The lost spectacles were
his own affair. And after all, Hare did have a spare a-pair. A-pair.
[Forest Dance #2 (Instrumental)]
[The Foot Of Our Stairs]
We sleep by the ever-bright hole in the door,
eat in the corner, talk to the floor,
cheating the spiders who come to say "Please",
(politely). They bend at the knees.
Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Old gentlemen talk of when they were young
of ladies lost and erring sons.
Lace-covered dandies revel (with friends)
pure as the truth, tied at both ends.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Scented cathedral spire pointed down.
We pray for souls in Kentish Town.
A delicate hush the gods, floating by
wishing us well, pie in the sky.
God of ages, Lord of Time, mine is the right to be wrong.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Jack rabbit mister spawn a new breed
of love-hungry pilgrims (no bodies to feed).
Show me a good man and I'll show you the door.
The last hymn is sung and the devil cries "More."
Well, I'm all for leaving and that being done,
I've put in a request to take up my turn
in that forsaken paradise that calls itself "Hell"
where no-one has nothing and nothing is well meaning fool,
pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling.
Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.
[Overseer Overture]
Colours I've none, dark or light, red, white or blue.
Cold is my touch (freezing).
Summoned by name - I am the overseer over you.
Given this command to watch o'er our miserable sphere.
Fallen from grace, called on to bring sun or rain.
Occasional corn from my oversight grew.
Fell with mine angels from a far better place,
offering services for the saving of face.
Now you're here, you may as well admire
all whom living has retired from the benign reconciliation.
Legends were born surrounding mysterious lights
seen in the sky (flashing).
I just lit a fag then took my leave in the blink of an eye.
Passionate play join round the maypole in dance
(primitive rite) (wrongly).
Summoned by name I am the overseer over you.
[Flight From Lucifer]
Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
Here's the everlasting rub... neither am I good or bad.
I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.
I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling.
The flies there are sleeping quietly.
Twist my right arm in the dark.
I would give two or three for
one of those days that never made
impressions on the old score.
I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone's saved we're in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.
Time for awaking the tea lady's making
a brew-up and baking new bread.
Pick me up at half past none
there's not a moment to lose.
There is the train on which I came.
On the platform are my old shoes.
Station master rings his bell.
Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).
I thank everybody
for making me welcome.
I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.
[10.08 To Paddington (Instrumental)]
[Magus Perde]
Hail! Son of kings make the ever-dying sign
cross your fingers in the sky for those about to BE.
There am I waiting along the sand.
Cast your sweet spell upon the land and sea.
Magus Perde, take your hand from off the chain.
Loose a wish to still, the rain, the storm about to BE.
Here am I (voyager into life).
Tough are the soles that tread the knife's edge.
Break the circle,stretch the line, call upon the devil.
Bring the gods, the gods' own fire
In the conflict revel.
The passengers upon the ferry crossing, waiting to be born,
renew the pledge of life's long song rise to the reveille horn.
Animals queueing at the gate that stands upon the shore
breathe the ever-burning fire that guards the ever-door.
Man - son of man - buy the flame of ever-life
(yours to breathe and breath the pain of living)... living BE!
Here am I! Roll the stone away
from the dark into ever-day.
[Epilogue]
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
into the Ever-passion Play.
MODERATOR
- Učlanjen(a)
- 06.07.2010
- Poruka
- 30.267
"A Small Cigar"
"A Small Cigar"
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
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit
A nearby tobacconist
To replenish my supply of small cigars
And make the party swing again
I know my clothes seem shabby
And don't fit this Hampstead soiree
Where unread copies of Rolling Stone
Well-thumbed Playboys
Decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves
If you ask me they're on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them
My small cigar's redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure
Call it a day
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea
By the tube station, there's a drunk old fool
Who sells papers in the rush hour
I hand to him ten small cigars
He smiles, says, ``Son, God bless you''
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar . . .
"A Small Cigar"
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
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit
A nearby tobacconist
To replenish my supply of small cigars
And make the party swing again
I know my clothes seem shabby
And don't fit this Hampstead soiree
Where unread copies of Rolling Stone
Well-thumbed Playboys
Decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves
If you ask me they're on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them
My small cigar's redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure
Call it a day
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea
By the tube station, there's a drunk old fool
Who sells papers in the rush hour
I hand to him ten small cigars
He smiles, says, ``Son, God bless you''
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar . . .