Jethro Tull

[fox69]

"Commons Brawl"

"Commons Brawl"



All right and honorable gentlemen
And lady, too
Will kindly try to restrain themselves
In derring-do

As verbal hard graffiti flies
And echoes wall to wall
Our precious model of democracy
It's the House of Commons brawl

One member from some dark mill town
Furious did cry
Spittle froth from folded chin
To dim the lie

Let's serve this brief and list the rush
Of who's allowed catcalls
Let's finish this right here and now
At the House of Commons brawl

Kick, punch with the government
As with jackets off they fly heaven-bent
Scratch gouge with the other side
As the party firmly admit a fight

Another day in the lives of those
Who would guide us through
If all is prepped that we should
By their example do
But there again I think for less
For gyving to the wall

The wrong house but the right idea
To end the Commons brawl

 

[fox69]

"Crazed Institution"

"Crazed Institution"



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.

Crawl inside your major triad, curl up and laugh
as your agent scores another front page photograph.
Is it them or is it you throwing dice inside the loo
awaiting someone else to pull the chain.
Well grab the old bog-handle, hold your breath and light a candle.
Clear your throat and pray for rain to irrigate the corridors that echo in
your brain filled with empty nothingness, empty hunger pains.

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.

 

[fox69]

"Crew Nights"

"Crew Nights"



Tear it down in double quick time
To get the eighth truck shifted 'bout midnight
The locker rooms are empty but the (Strobo Tickers?) (strobe boats?)
still spin with their pitching lights
And someone with a yellow pass
Gives out precise directions as to where and when

And here am I with a drumstick,
While young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again
Tomorrow is an off-day,
Be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel
Reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar,
And printed invitations to the ball.
Off duty cops line corridors wearing Tull (two?) T-shirts proudly
on the band's (...) wall

Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.

Feeling that it might be wrong to
Temporarily belong to the P.A. man (men?)
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being
Undressed with no suntan
His polaroid is snapping
The head carpenter is rapping on
The gates of dawn

Sitting lonely with a warm beer
The girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.

Crew nights, no bar fights or (feeders?) (veeders?) wives
Thin walls and late (blade?) calls and nine lives.

Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.

 

[fox69]

"Critique Oblique"

"Critique Oblique"



Critic of the black and white
It's your first night.
The Passion Play gets in the way,
Spoils your insight.

Tell me how the baby's made,
How the lady's laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.

The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on
the memory of last summer's trip to Europe

Did you buy a passport from the queen?

And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony
shoulder of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously
into her geography revision.
The examining body examined her body.

 

[fox69]

"Cross-Eyed Mary"

"Cross-Eyed Mary"



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.
Dines in Hampstead village
on expense accounted gruel,
and the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground -- gets no kicks from little boys:
would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She's a poor man's rich girl
and she'll do it for a song.
She's a rich man stealer
but her favour's good and strong:
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate --
helps the poor man get along.

 

[fox69]

"Crossfire"

"Crossfire"



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

Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue
In go the windows and out go the lights
Call me a doctor. Fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight

I'm just a soul with an innocent face ---
a regular boy dressed in blue
conducting myself in a proper way
as befitting the job that I do
They came down on me like a ton of bricks
Swept off my feet, knocked about
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait
for the hard men to get me out

Calm reason floats from the street below
and the slow fuse burns through the night
Everyone's tried to talk it through
but they can't seem to get the deal right
Somewhere there are Brownings in a two-hand hold ---
cocked and locked, one up the spout
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait
for the hard men to get me out

 

[fox69]

"Crossword"

"Crossword"



Walking on air, shoulder and head above you.
Down in the street, black canyons walking through.
Hooded sad eyes, fixed on your shuffle shoes.
Life is a clue in your crossword.

Typewriter turk. Telephone terror takes
time to wind down. Push-button finger shakes.
City of dreams. Back to your quiet nightmare.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.

Working to rule in your own time.
Drag yourself home to your star sign page.
Staying awake on cold yesterday's steak and warm beer.

Ladder of string climbing to sweet success.
Homework aside. Your brain on the train to test.
Pick up the news (you left on the seat beside you).
Your life is a clue in the crossword.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.
Your life is a clue in the crossword.

 

[fox69]

"Cup Of Wonder"

"Cup Of Wonder"



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 ley*
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.

Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
Question all as to their ways,
and learn the secrets that they hold.
Walk the lines of nature's palm
crossed with silver and with gold.
Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

Join in black December's sadness,
lie in August's welcome corn.
Stir the cup that's ever-filling
with the blood of all that's born.
But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed this 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.

{refers to "ley lines"}

 

[fox69]

"Dangerous Veils"

"Dangerous Veils"



Desert candle in a tented space
throwing softer shadows on a covered face.
Sister, silent to the likes of me --
Pay my respects to her propriety.

Is this some crazy woman here,
dancing behind her thin black veil?
Am I misreading those mysterious eyes?
Duet impossible to harmonize.

I'm not inviting any stiff reaction.
I'm not one for naming holy names.
And I won't peek behind those dangerous veils.
Though you might hate me just the same.

Name of the Father ringing in her head --
Thinking over what the prophet said.
Words and tradition bind her in their spell.
Don't drink the water from this holy well.

I'm not inviting any fierce reaction
and I'm not one for naming holy names.
I won't peek behind those dangerous veils.
Though you might hate me just the same.

Desert candle in a tented space
Softer shadows on a covered face.
Sister, silent to the likes of me --
I tip my hat to her propriety.

I'm not inviting any fierce reaction
and I'm not one for naming holy names.
I won't peek behind those dangerous veils.
Though you might hate me just the same.

 

[fox69]

"Dark Ages"

"Dark Ages"



Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall?
said the lady in her parlor
said the butler in the hall.
Is there time for another?
cried the drunkard in his sleep.
Not likely
said the little child. What's done
the Lord can keep.
And the vicar stands a-praying.
And the television dies
as the white dot flickers and is gone
and no-one stops to cry.
The big jet rumbles over runway miles
that scar the patchwork green
where slick tycoons and rich buffoons
have opened up the seam
of golden nights and champagne flights
ad-man overkill
and in the haze
consumer crazed
we take the sugar pill.
Jagged fires mark the picket lines
the politicians weep
and mealy-mouthed
through corridors of power on tip-toe creep.
Come and see bureaucracy
make its final heave
and let the new disorder through
while senses take their leave.
Families screaming line the streets
and put the windows through
in corner shops
where keepers kept
the country's life-blood blue.
Take their pick
and try the trick
with loaves and fishes shared
and the vicar shouts
as the lights go out,
and no-one really cares.

Dark Ages
shaking the dead
Closed pages
better not read
Cold rages
burn in your head.