Jethro Tull
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.
SongtexteAnd you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
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