Jethro Tull

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Locomotive Breath

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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 wey 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 cooidor
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.

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Aqualung

Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little 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 road
salvation à la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't you 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.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAA mrzim činjenicu da nisam bio na njihovom koncertu

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Songs From The Wood

Let me bring you songs from the wood:
to make you feel much better than you could know.
Dust you down from tip to toe.
Show you how the garden grows.
Hold you steady as you go.
Join the chorus if you can:
it'll make of you an honest man.
Let me bring you love from the field:
poppies red and roses filled with summer rain.
To heal the wound and still the pain
that threatens again and again
as you drag down every lover's lane.
Life's long celebration's here.
I'll toast you all in penny cheer.
Let me bring you all things refined:
galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale.
Greetings well met fellow, hail!
I am the wind to fill your sail.
I am the cross to take your nail:
A singer of these ageless times.
With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes.
Songs from the wood make you feel much better.

Po meni njihova najbolja pesma.