Jethro Tull

[fox69]

"Too Many Too"

"Too Many Too"



Too many drivers in too many cars.
Too many lost souls drinking in too many bars.
Too many heroes stepping on too many toes.
Too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
we've got too many too.
Too many too.

Too much sunshine. Too many drops of rain.
Too many equal and average children who will all grow up the same.
Too many fireside politicians holding too many views.
Too many questions but there are answers too few.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
we've got too many too.

If I were a liar yes, and you were a cheat,
there would be too many places where we all could meet.
Too many temples where we could worship the beast.
Where he who thinks he had the most in fact has the least.
Too many lives each cat can lose,
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.
I've got too many too.

 

[fox69]

"Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young To Die"

"Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young To Die"



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.

Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do's.
For drinks on a Sunday --- work on Monday.
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.

 

[fox69]

"Truck Stop Runner"

"Truck Stop Runner"



Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money--
she won't take it: she says--

Oh she says.
Oh she says I just know you're a Leo,
I can tell you've got a lion's heart.
She went on in this way for a while,
Like some 60's sister playing a part.
Ohh this cup of black coffee gonna do me just fine.
Through the dust in the mirror tiles I can see that door,
Keep it close behind.

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Oh she looked so liberated.
She was looking fit to start.
She got this back to front and sideways,
wore her sleeve upon her heart.
Ohhh, oh, just one more coffee's 'bout all I can take.
Have to do a truck stop runner now.
I'm not man enough to make it,
She says.
She says.

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money--
she won't take it: she says--

Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
Kick off those tired sports shoes--
got a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.

Truck stop runner.

I'll be a truck stop runner.

 

[fox69]

"Tundra"

"Tundra"



Short Arctic desert day ---
and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Look around every which way
but I can't see just where the footprints go.
Is it a casual disappearance? ---
Plucked from the middle atmosphere
like straw wind-blown.
No speck on the horizon ---
no simple message scrawled
upon the snow.

Unearthly visitation ---
someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Hungry buzzard flier
circling round and round
rattling death's tambourine.

Have to run it down the cold wire ---
late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found.
Should I spread out searching?
But I'm a little thin upon the ground.

So I raise my lips to coax
the last drop of brandy from the bottle.
Rest my feet and contemplate
the mystery that's haunting
this Siberian space.

Show-shoes they bind me down ---
I'm just one more parasite of the surface layer.
I begin to get the feeling
I've been on this stage before
and I'm the only player.

One more Arctic desert day ---
another set of shoes out in the tundra snow.
I make my fade to white-out
and you can't see me where my footprints go.

 

[fox69]

"Two Fingers"

"Two Fingers"



I'll see you at the Weighing-In,
when your life's sum-total's made
and you set your wealth in Godly deeds
against the sins you'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.

And the hard-headed miracle worker
who bathes his hands in blood,
Will welcome you to the final nod ---
and cover you with mud.
And he'll say, ``You really should make the deal,''
as he offers round the hat.
``You'd better lick two fingers clean ---
He'll thank you all for that.''
As you slip on the greasy platform,
and you land upon your back,
You make a wish and you wipe your nose upon the railway track.
While the high-strung locomotive,
with furnace burning bright,
Lumbers on --- you wave goodbye ---
and the sparks fade into night.

And as you join the Good Ship Earth,
and you mingle with the dust ---
you'd better leave your underpants
with someone you can trust.
And when the Old Man with the telescope
cuts the final strand ---
you'd better lick two fingers clean,
before you shake his hand.

 

[fox69]

"Under Wraps #1"

"Under Wraps #1"



Keep it quiet. (Go slow.)
Circulate. Need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file ---
masquerade, but well worth while.

Wrapped in the warmth of you ---
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.

Wear an air --- (keep mum)
of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
about your usual business.

Wrapped in daydreams of you ---
wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.

Tell you when --- (not yet)
soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! Upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.

Wrapped in your Summer night ---
wrapped in your Autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping.

 

[fox69]

"Under Wraps #2"

"Under Wraps #2"



Keep It Quiet (Go slow)
Circulate. Need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file
masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.

Wear an air (keep mum)
of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
about your usual business.

Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I’ve got you under wraps.
Under wraps! I’ve got you under wraps.

Tell you when (not yet)
soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! Upon my soul!
Secrecy, it’s my failing.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.

 

[fox69]

"Undressed To Kill"

"Undressed To Kill"



Working on the late shift --- first drink of the day.
Pull a chair up to the table, have to look the other way.
What kind of place am I in? And who's this over here?
Shaking through the silver bubbles climbing through my beer.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill?

Staring through the smoke haze --- plaid shirts in the night.
Well, I'm making sure that everything is zipped up tight.
Who's that jumping on the table? Putting tonic in my gin?
Brushing silken dollars on her cold white skin.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill?

She could have been sweet seventeen. There again, well, so could I.
There was a tear drop sparkle on the inside of her thigh.
Going to fetch myself a cold beer. I've got to get a grip.
Find some place to touch down. Find a landing strip.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Can you meet the eyes of a working girl
all undressed to kill?

Last one out is a cold duck. Padding down the road.
I wait outside, my motor running --- got a warm dream to unload.
Can I face her in the sunshine? In he harsh real light of day?
She walks out with recognition in her eyes --- I look away.
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still.
Couldn't meet the eyes of a working girl
undressed to kill.

 

[fox69]

"Uniform"

"Uniform"



See black, see yellow with little notebooks drawn
See grey stripes bowling down the street
Silver streaks and T-shirts so precisely torn
Strange foreign chaps in white bed-sheets ---
Uniforms

See golden halo'd men of high renown
prance to the politicians' beat
Well tailored in unswerving elegance
with shoes by Gucci on their feet ---
Uniforms

How do you know who the hell you are?
Wake up each day under a different star
Dressed to the nines, meet yourself going home
like a clone, smartly dressed in your pressed uniform

White battle dress on green pitch, proud eleven
Beneath the swelling box so neat
the teeming millions of the future fly ---
the spinning cricket ball to cheat
They're all uniform

 

[fox69]

"Up The 'Pool"

"Up The 'Pool"



I'm going up the `pool from down the smoke below
to taste my mum's jam sarnies and see our Aunty Flo.
The candyfloss salesman watches ladies in the sand
down for a freaky weekend in the hope that they'll be meeting
Mister Universe.

The iron tower smiles down upon the silver sea
and along the golden mile they'll be swigging mugs of tea.
The politicians there who've come to take the air
while posing for the daily press
will look around and blame the mess
on Edward Bear.

There'll be bucket, spades and bingo, cockles, mussels, rainy days,
seaweed and sand castles, icy waves.
Deck chairs, rubber dinghies, old vests, braces dangling down,
sun-tanned stranded starfish in a daze.

We're going up the `pool from down the smoke below
to taste my mum's jam sarnies and see our Aunty Flo.
The candy floss salesman watches ladies in the sand
down for a freaky weekend in the hope that they'll be meeting
Mister Universe.

There'll be buckets, spades and bingo, cockles, mussels, rainy days,
seaweed and sand castles, icy waves,
Deck chairs, rubber dinghies, old vests, braces dangling down,
sun-tanned stranded starfish in a daze.

Oh Blackpool,
oh Blackpool.