Darlings, are you ready
For the long winter's fall?
Said the lady in her parlor
Said the butler in the hall
Is there time for another?
Cried the drunkard in his sleep
Not likely! Said the little child
What's done the Lord can keep
And the vicar stands a-praying
And the television dies
As the white dot flickers and is gone
And no one stops to cry
Dark ages shaking the dead
Closed pages better not read
Cold rages, they burn in your head
The big jet rumbles over runway miles
That scar the patchwork green
Where slick tycoons and rich buffoons
Have opened up the seam
Of golden nights and champagne flights
And man-overkill
And in the haze, consumer crazed
We take the sugar pill
And jagged fires mark the picket lines
The politicians weep
And mealy-mouthed through corridors
Of power on tip-toe creep
Well, come and see bureaucracy
Make its final heave
And let the new disorder through
While senses take their leave
Families screaming line the streets
And put the windows through
In corner shops where keepers kept
The country's life-blood blue
Well, take their pick and try the trick
With loaves and fishes shared
And the vicar shouts as the lights go out
And no one really cares
Jethro Tull (Stormwatch / 1979) еще тексты
Оценка текста
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 2