| Re: Poetry Corner |
Subject: Re: Poetry Corner by TommyT-Bone on 2013/12/4 3:20:01 Lyrics are like poetry put to music Aqualung Sitting on a park bench Eying little girls with bad intent Snot's running down his nose Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes, hey, Aqualung Drying in the cold sun Watching as the frilly panties run, hey, Aqualung Feeling like a dead duck Spitting out pieces of his broken luck, oh, Aqualung Sun streaking cold, an old man wandering lonely Taking time, the only way he knows Leg hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog end He goes down to the bog and warms his feet Feeling alone, the army's up the road Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea Aqualung, my friend, don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see it's only me Do you still remember December's foggy freeze When the ice that clings on to your beard It was screaming agony Hey and you snatch your rattling last breaths With deep-sea diver sounds And the flowers bloom like Madness in the spring Sun streaking cold, an old man wandering lonely Taking time, the only way he knows Leg hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog end He goes down to the bog and warms his feet Feeling alone, the army's up the road Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea Aqualung my friend don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see it's only me Aqualung my friend don't you start away uneasy You poor old sod, you see it's only me Sitting on a park bench Eying up little girls with bad intent Snots running down his nose Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes, hey Aqualung Drying in the cold sun Watching as the frilly panties run, hey Aqualung Feeling like a dead duck Spitting out pieces of his broken luck, hey Aqualung Oh Aqualung Ian Anderson |
