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Jethro Tull - Baker Street Muse

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Uploaded on Jan 10, 2011

(Shit, shit, shit...take two.)

[Baker Street Muse]

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.

[CHORUS START]
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.
[CHORUS END]

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.
(Oh what the hell!)

[CHORUS]

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

[Pigmy And The Whore]

"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. Fly-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.

[Crash-Barrier Waltzer]

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, no 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. P'liceman;
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 poison regrets.
"No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness."
"Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel;
I'll pay the bill and make her well."
"Like hell you bloody whirl.
No do-good over kill.
We must teach them to be still more independent."

[Mother England Reverie]

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 nobody 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 unreality.
And when all's said and all's done,
I couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead certainty -
that I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Hopping down the gutter, stinking, winking in the same old way.
And 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.

[CHORUS]

(I'm just a Baker Street Muse...I can't get out!)

This beautiful song hasn't been uploaded in full since YT started lifting the 15-minute limit on videos for certain accounts. I am hoping the record company will allow this to stay up and that this account will still be able to make videos in excess of 15 minutes, but I figure eventually I'll get a strike or this will get Content ID matched, which most likely means that I won't be able to. But whatever, here's hoping it doesn't wind up that way. It is also worth noting that THIS CHANNEL IS NOT A TULL CHANNEL OR A MUSIC CHANNEL.

Proper credits here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minstrel...

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