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Jethro Tull




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Jethro Tull Album


A Passion Play (1973)
1973
1.
2.
. . .


Lifebeats
Instrumental part

Prelude
Instrumental part

The Silver Cord
"Do you still see me even here?"
(The silver cord lies on the ground.)
"And so I'm dead", the young man said - over the hill (not a wish away).
My friends (as one) all stand aligned, although 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 aftermath ripe with rich attainments
All imagined sad misdeeds in disarray the sore thumb screams aloud,
Echoing out of the Passion Play.
All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key:
Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance.
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
Into the Ever-passion Play.

And who comes here to wish me well?
A sweetly-scented angel fell.
She laid her head upon my disbelief
And bathed me with her ever-smile.
And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound
NO-ONE (but someone to be found).

Re-Assuring Tune
Instrumental part

Memory Bank
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 we thank you.
The ice-cream lady wets her drawers, to see you in the passion play.

Take the prize for instant pleasure,
Captain of the cricket team
Public speaking in all weathers,
A knighthood from a queen.

Best Friends
All of your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand.
There's a line in a front-page story, 13 horses that also-ran.
Climb in your old umbrella.
Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?

But the rain only gets in sometimes and the sun never leaves you alone.


Critique Oblique
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 laid,
Why the old dog howls in sadness.

And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away
On the bony shoulders of a young horse named George
Who stole surreptitiously into her 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 sleeves since your memory won't do.
Tell me: how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded,
Why 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 behind,
We'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 story, for the gory satisfaction
Of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?

There was a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was a hush in the Passion Play.

Forest Dance No.1
Instrumental part

. . .


[Spoken:]
This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles.

Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching.
Sitting on a fence one day, he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close by.
Now this may not seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisper to no one in particular,
"The hare has lost his spectacles," well, he began to wonder.

Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying on the 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,
For without his spectacles he appeared completely helpless.
Where were his spectacles? Could someone have stolen them?
Had he mislaid them? What was he to do?
Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began:
"You probably ate them thinking they were a carrot."
"No!" interrupted Owl, who was wise.
"I have good eye-sight, insight, and foresight.
How could an intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?"
But all this time, Owl had been sitting on the fence, scowling!
A Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk.
She thought herself far superior in intelligence to the others.
She was their leader, their guru. She had the answer:
"Hare, you must go in search of the optician."
But then she realized that Hare was completely helpless without his spectacles.
And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare in search 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 so small a problem
"You can take him in your pouch."
But alas, Hare was much too big to fit into Kangaroo's pouch.
All this time, it had been quite plain to hare that the others knew nothing about spectacles.

[Sung:]
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.

. . .


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