| See there! |
| A man born — and we pronounce him fit for peace
|
| There’s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease
|
| We’ll take the child from him put it to the test
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| Teach it to be a wise man how to fool the rest
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| In the clear white circles of morning wonder
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| I take my place with the lord of the hills
|
| And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured
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| In neat little rows sporting canvas frills
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| With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention
|
| While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen
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| Saying -- how’s your granny and
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| Good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win
|
| The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn lie cradled in the seagull’s call
|
| And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist’s fall
|
| The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, behind the gun
|
| And signal for the crack of dawn. |
| Light the sun. |
| Light the sun
|
| Do you believe in the day?
|
| Do you? |
| Believe in the day!
|
| The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun
|
| Soft Venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one
|
| Do you believe? |
| Believe in the day!
|
| Do you believe in the day?
|
| The fading hero has returned to the night
|
| And fully pregnant with the day
|
| Wise men endorse the poet’s sight
|
| Do you believe in the day?
|
| Do you? |
| Believe in the day!
|
| Let me tell you the tales of your life
|
| Of your love and the cut of the knife
|
| The tireless oppression the wisdom instilled
|
| The desire to kill or be killed
|
| Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by
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| The pavements are empty: the gutters run red — while the fool toasts his god in
|
| the sky
|
| So come all ye young men who are building castles!
|
| Kindly state the time of the year
|
| And join your voices in a hellish chorus
|
| Mark the precise nature of your fear
|
| Let me help you to pick up your dead
|
| As the sins of the father are fed
|
| With the blood of the fools and
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| The thoughts of the wise
|
| And from the pan under your bed
|
| Let me make you a present of song
|
| As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
|
| While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
|
| And the nursery rhyme winds along
|
| So! |
| Come all ye young men who are building castles!
|
| Kindly state the time of the year
|
| And join your voices in a hellish chorus
|
| Mark the precise nature of your fear
|
| See! |
| The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
|
| And the hour of judgement draweth near
|
| Would you be the fool
|
| Stood in his suit of armour
|
| Or the wiser man who rushes clear
|
| So! |
| Come on ye childhood heroes!
|
| Won’t your rise up from the pages
|
| Of your comic-books your super-crooks
|
| And show us all the way
|
| Well! |
| Make your will and testament
|
| Won’t you? |
| Join your local government
|
| We’ll have Superman for president
|
| Let Robin save the day
|
| So! |
| Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
|
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
|
| They’re all resting down in Cornwall —
|
| Writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual
|
| So you ride yourselves over the fields
|
| And you make all your animal deals
|
| And your wise men don’t know how it feels
|
| To be thick as a brick |
Інформація про пісню На цій сторінці ви можете ознайомитися з текстом пісні Thick As A Brick (Part 2) , виконавця - Jethro Tull.