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Текст песни JETHRO TULL - A Passion Play

JETHRO TULL - A Passion Play слова песни



Текст песни JETHRO TULL - A Passion Play




"Do you still see me even here?"The silver cord lies on the ground."And so I'm dead", the young man saidOver the hill, not a wish away.My friends as one all stand alignedAlthough their taxis came too late.( )There was a rush along the Fulham Road.There was a hush in the Passion Play.Such a sense of glowing in the aftermathRipe with rich attainments all imaginedSad misdeeds in disarray, the sore thumb screams aloudEchoing out of the Passion Play.All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different keyMelodies decaying in sweet dissonance.There was a rush along the Fulham RoadInto the ever-Passion Play.And who comes here to wish me well?A sweetly-scented angel fell.She laid her head upon my disbeliefAnd bathed me with her ever-smile.And with a howl across the sandI go escorted by a bandOf gentlemen in leather boundNo one but someone to be found.All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom.Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? Step into the viewing room.The cameras were all around, We've got you taped- you're in the Play.Here's your I.D., ideal for identifying one and all.Invest your life in the memory bank, ours the interest and wethank you.The ice-cream lady wet her drawers, to see you in the Passion Play.Take the prize for instant pleasureCaptain of the cricket teamPublic speaking in all weathersA knighthood from a queen.All your best friends telephones never cooled from the heat ofyour hand.From your hand.There's a line in a front-page story- 13 horses that also-ran.Also-ran.Climb in your old umbrella, Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?In the dome?But the rain only gets in sometimes, and the sun never leaves youalone.You alone.You alone.Lover of the black and white- it's your first night.The Passion Play goes all the way-spoils your insight.Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laidWhy the old dog howls in sadness.And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bonyshoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously intoher geography revision.The examining body examined her body.Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view.Peek at the lines upon your sleeve, since your memory won't do.Tell me how the baby's graded, how the lady's fadedWhy the old dogs howl with madness.All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat.And now you've lost a skin or two- you're for us and we for you.The dressing room is right behindWe've got you taped, you're in the Play.How does it feel to be in the Play?How does it feel to play the Play?How does it feel to be the Play?Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out.For we do love you like a son, of that there's no doubt.Tell us, is it you who are here for our good cheer?Or are we here for the glory, for the storyFor the gory satisfaction of telling you how absolutely awful youreally are?There was a rush along the Fulham Road.There was a hush in the Passion Play.This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles!Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching. Sitting on afence one day, he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by.Now this may not seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisperto no one in particular, "The hare has lost his spectacles", well, hebegan to wonder.Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud, and there, lying onthe grass, was Hare. In the stream that flowed by the grass- a newt.And sitting astride a twig of a bush- a bee.Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with excitement, forwithout his spectacles he was completely helpless. Where were hisspectacles? Could someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid them? Whatwas he to do?Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer, began, "Youprobably ate them thinking they were a carrot"."No!" interrupted Owl, who was wise. "I have good eysight, insight,and foresight. How could an intelligent hare make such a sillymikstake?" But all this time, Owl had been sitting on the fence,scowling!Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk. She thought herselffar superior in intelligence to the others. She was their leader,their guru. She had the answer: "Hare, you must go in search of theoptician"But then she realized that Hare were completely helpless without hisspectacles. And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare insearch of anything!""You can, guru, you can!" shouted Newt. "You can send him with Owl."But Owl had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by sosmall a problem: "You can take him in your pouch." But alas, Hare wasmuch too big to fit into Kangaroo's pouch.All this time, it had been quite plain to Hare that the others knewnothing about spectacles.As for all their tempting ideas, well Hare didn't care.The lost spectacles were his own affair.And after all, Hare did have a spare a-pair...A-pair...We sleep by the ever-bright hole in the doorEat in the corner, talk to the floor.Cheating the spiders who come to say "Please"Politely they bend at the knees.Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.Old gentlemen talk of when they were youngOf ladies lost and erring sons.Lace-covered dandies revel with friendsPure as the truth tied at both ends.Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.Scented cathedral-spire pointed downWe pray for souls in Kentish town.A delicate hush- the gods floating byWishing us well- pie in the sky.God of Ages, Lord of TimeMine is the right to be wrong.Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.Jack rabbit mister, spawn a new breedOf love-hungry pilgrims, no bodies to feedShow me a good man and I'll show you the door.The last hymn is sung and the devil cries "More"Well, I'm all for leaving and that being doneI've put in a request to take up my turnIn that forsaken paradise that calls itself HellWhere no one has nothing and nothing is well--meaning fool, pick up thy bed and riseUp from your gloom smiling.Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.Colors I've none- dark or light, red, white or blueCold is my touch- freezingSummoned by name, I am the overseer over you.Given this command to watch o'er our miserable sphere.Fallen from grace, called onTo bring sun or rain, occasional corn from my oversight grew.Fell with mine angels from a far better placeOffering services for the saving of face.Now you're here you may as well admireAll whom living has retiredFrom the benign reconciliation.Legends were born surrounding mysterious lightsSeen in the sky, flashing.I just lit a fag, then took my leave in the blink of an eye.Passionate play, join round the maypole in dancePrimitive rite- wronglySummoned by name, I am the overseer over you.Flee the icy Lucifer!Oh he's an awful fellow!What a mistake! I didn't takeA feather from his pillow.Here's the everlasting rubNeither am I good or badI'd give up my halo for a hornAnd the horn for the hat I once had.I'm only breathing, there's life on my ceilingThe flies there are sleeping quietly...Twist my right arm in the darkI would give two or three for




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