Paroles de Baker st. muse

Jethro Tull

pochette album Baker st. muse
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Windy bus-stop. click. shop-window. heel.
Shady gentleman. fly-button. feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands. with cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time -
You can call me on another line.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain.
Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station
Stand. with cold print hands.
Symphony word-player, i'll be your headline.
If you catch me another time.

Didn't make her - with my baker street ruse.
Couldn't shake her - with my baker street bruise.
Like to take her - i'm just a baker street muse.

Ale-spew, puddle-brew - boys, throw it up clean.
Coke and bacardi colours them green.
From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess with great finesse.
Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet down in the baker
Street underground.

What the hell?
I didn't make her - with my baker street ruse.
Couldn't shake her - with my baker street bruise.
Like to take her - i'm just a baker street muse.

Walking down the gutter thinking, "how the hell am i today?"
Well, i didn't really ask you but thanks all the same.

Big bottled fraulein, put your weight on me," said the pig-me to the
Whore, desperate for more in his assault upon the mountain.
Little man, his youth a fountain. overdrafted and still counting.
Vernacular, verbose; an attempt at getting close to where he came from.
In the doorway of the stars, between blandford street and mars;
Proposition, deal. flying button feel. testicle testing.
Wallet ever-bulging. dressed to the left, divulging the wrinkles of his
Years.
Wedding-bell induced fears.
Shedding bell-end tears in the pocket of her resistance.
International assistance flowing generous and full to his never-ready tool.
Pulls his eyes over her wool. and he shudders as he comes -
And my rudder slowly turns me into the marylebone road.

And here slip i - dragging one foot in the gutter -
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios.
And there sits she - no bed, no bread nor butter -
On a double yellow line where she can park anytime.
Old lady grey; crash-barrier waltzer -
Some only son's mother. baker street casualty.
Oh, mr. policeman - blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster - move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux - his romeo to her juliet.
Her sleeping draught his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, oh let me send her to a cheap hotel -
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you bloody will!
No do-good over kill. we must teach them to be still more independent

I have no time for time magazine or rolling stone.
I have no wish for wishing-wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country i have no motor-car.
And if you think i'm joking, then i'm just a one-line joker in a public
Bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and i'm a one-band-man.
And i want no top twenty funeral or a hundred grand.
There was a little boy stood on a burning log, rubbing his hands with glee.
He said, "oh mother england, did you light my smile; or did you light
This fire under me?
One day i'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes i sing to a cynical degree -
It's just the nonsense that it seems.
So i drift down through the baker street valley, in my steep-sided
Un-reality.

And when all's said and all's done - couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead-certainty - that i'm just a baker street muse.
Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same old way.
I tried to catch my eye but i looked the other way.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain -
Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station
Stand. circumcised with cold print hands.

Windy bus-stop. click. shop-window. heel.
Shady gentleman. fly-button. feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands. with cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time -
You can call me on another line.

Didn't make her - with my baker street ruse.

Couldn't shake her - with my baker street bruise.
Like to take her - i'm just a baker street muse.
I'm just a baker street muse. just a baker street muse.
Just a baker street muse

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