Текст песни:

Sitting on a park bench
eyeing up little girl
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.
Sun streaking cold
an old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
the only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
as he bends to pick a dog end
goes down to a bog to
warm his feet.
Feeling alone
the army′s up the rode
salvation a la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don′t start away uneasy
you poor old sod
you see it′s only me.
Do you still remember
December′s foggy freeze
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

On Preston platform

do your soft shoe shuffle dance.

Brush away the cigarette ash that′s

falling down your pants.

And you sadly wonder

does the nurse treat your old man

the way she should.

She made you tea,

asked for your autograph --

what a laugh.

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

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.

Once I used to join in
every boy and girl was my friend.
Now there′s revolution, but they don′t know
what they′re fighting.
Let us close out eyes;
outside their lives go on much faster.
Oh, we won′t give in,
we′ll keep living in the past.

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

In 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

it won′t stop going no way to slow down. Oh
Oh.

He sees his children jumping off at stations one by one.
His woman and his best friend in bed and having fun.
Oh
he′s crawling down the corridor on his hands and his knees.
Old Charlie stole the handle
and the train

it won′t stop going no way to slow down. Oh
Oh.

He hears the silence howling
catches angels as they fall

And the alltime winner has got him by the balls.
Oh
he picks up Gidean′s Bible; open at page one.
I thank Got he stole the handle
and the train

it won′t stop going no way to slow down.
No way to slow down.
No way to slow down.
No way to slow down.

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

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

As she turned to get undressed.

And the long night awakened

And we soared on powdered wings ---

Circling our tomorrows

In the wary month of spring.

Chasing shadows slipping

In a magic lantern slide ---

Creatures of the candle

On a night-light-ride.

Dipping and weaving --- flutter

Through the golden needles eye

In our haystack madness. butterfly-stroking

On a spring-tide high.

Lifes too long (as the lemming said)

As the candle burned and the moths were wed.

And well all burn together as the wick grows higher ---

Before the candles dead.

The leaded window opened

To move the dancing candle flame.

And the first moths of summer

Suicidal came

To join in the worship

Of the light that never dies

In a moments reflection

Of two moths spinning in her eyes

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

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.

No, this is not love.

Empty drugstore postcards freeze

Sunburst images of summers gone.

Think I see us in these promenade days

Before we learned octobers song.

Out on the headland, one gale-whipped tree;

Curious, head bent to see.

And how come you know better than me

That this is not love.

Down to the sad south, smokey plumes

Mark that real world city home.

Broken spells and silent gloom

Ooze from that concrete honeycomb.

Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea

Snapped our heels half-heartedly

And how come you know better than me

That this is not love.

@ Jethro Tull

Текст песни:

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight. unfashionable to the end
--- drank his ale too light. deaths head belt buckle --- yesterdays dreams --- the transport c

Rophet of doom. ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war-babe gloom. now hes too
old to rocknroll but hes too young to die. he once owned a harley davidson and a triumph bo

Lle. counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs and prays that he always will. but hes the last
of the blue blood greaser boys all of his mates are doing time: married with three kids up by

Ing road sold their souls straight down the line. and some of them own little sports cars and meet
at the tennis club dos. for drinks on a sunday --- work on monday. theyve thrown away their b

Uede shoes. now theyre too old to rocknroll and theyre 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

Ed 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 rocknroll but he was too young t

. no, youre never too old to rocknroll if youre too young to die.

@ Jethro Tull