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Aqualung
by Jethro Tull
ALBUM RANKINGS:
Ratings and rankings are based on all available critic reviews and awards.
Overall Rating:
3.4223
Avg. Critic Score:
3.6000
Aqualung Lyrics
Lyrics
Disc
Track
Title
- Sitting on a park bench --
- eyeing ittle 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.
- 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 --
- he goes down to the bog
- and warms 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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?
- Walked down by the bathing pond
- to try and catch some sun.
- Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
- into hankerchiefs as one.
- I don't believe they knew
- I was a schoolboy.
- And a bearded lady said to me --
- if you start your raving and your misbehaving --
- you'll be sorry.
- Then the chicken-fancier came to play --
- with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
- she drives a lorry).
- Laughed down by the putting green --
- I popped `em in their holes.
- Four and twenty labourers were labouring --
- digging up their gold.
- I don't believe they knew
- that I was Long John Silver.
- Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
- in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) --
- stole it from a snow man.
- 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.
- Wond'ring aloud --
- will the years treat us well.
- As she floats in the kitchen,
- I'm tasting the smell
- of toast as the butter runs.
- Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
- and I shake my head.
- And it's only the giving
- that makes you what you are.
- 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.
- Buy a silver cloud to ride --
- pack the tennis club inside --
- trouser cuffs hung far too wide --
- well it was up to me.
- Tyres down on your bicicle --
- your nose feels like an icicle --
- the yellow fingered smoky girl
- is looking up to me.
- Well I'm a common working man
- with a half of bitter -- bread and jam
- and if it pleases me I'll put one on you man --
- when the copper fades away.
- The rainy season comes to pass --
- the day-glo pirate sinks at last --
- and if I laughed a bit to fast.
- Well it was up to me.
- 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.
- So lean upon Him gently
- and don't call on Him to save you
- from your social graces
- and the sins you used to waive.
- The bloody Church of England --
- in chains of history --
- requests your earthly presence at
- the vicarage for tea.
- And the graven image you-know-who --
- with His plastic crucifix --
- he's got him fixed --
- confuses me as to who and where and why --
- as to how he gets his kicks.
- Confessing to the endless sin --
- the endless whining sounds.
- You'll be praying till next Thursday to
- all the gods that you can count.
- Oh father high in heaven -- smile down upon your son
- whose busy with his money games -- his women and his gun.
- Oh Jesus save me!
- And the unsung Western hero killed an Indian or three
- and made his name in Hollywood
- to set the white man free.
- Oh Jesus save me!
- If Jesus saves -- well, He'd better save Himself
- from the gory glory seekers who use His name in death.
- Oh Jesus save me!
- I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon --
- His cross was rather bloody --
- He could hardly roll His stone.
- Oh Jesus save me!
- Well the lush separation unfolds you --
- and the products of wealth
- push you along on the bow wave
- of the spiritless undying selves.
- And you press on God's waiter your last dime --
- as he hands you the bill.
- And you spin in the slipstream --
- timeless -- unreasoning --
- paddle right out of the mess.
- In the shuffling madness
- 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 --
- No way to slow down.
- He sees his children jumping off
- At the stations -- one by one.
- His woman and his best friend --
- In bed and having fun.
- He's crawling down the corridor
- On his hands and knees --
- Old Charlie stole the handle and
- The train won't stop going --
- No way to slow down.
- He hears the silence howling --
- Catches angels as they fall.
- And the all-time winner
- Has got him by the balls.
- He picks up Gideon's Bible --
- Open at page one --
- God stole the handle and
- The train won't stop going --
- No way to slow down.
- [Thanks to mmilek@wp.pl, David.Pohlig@atk.com for correcting these lyrics]
- 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
- and by way of firm reply,
- He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
- So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
- before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
- I don't believe you:
- you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
- He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
- Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
- and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
- how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
- when that was just an accident of Birth.
- I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
- `cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
- In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
- as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
- I don't believe you:
- you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
- He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
- 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.
- So place your final burden on your hard-pressed next of kin:
- Send the chamber pot back down the line to be filled up again.
- Take your mind off your election and try to get it straight.
- And don't pretend perfection: you'll be crucified too late.
- And he'll say you really should make the deal as he offers round the hat.
- Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean, I thank you all for that.
- And as you join the good ship earth and you mingle with the dust
- be sure to leave your underpants with someone you can trust.
- And the hard-headed social worker who bathes his hands in blood
- will welcome you with arms held high and cover you with mud.
- And he'll say you really should make the deal as he offers round the hat.
- Well, you'd better lick your fingers clean, well. I'll thank you all for that.
- [Thanks to Andrea Calzoni (jethro85@alice.it) for these lyrics]
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