Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thick As A Brick (Part 2), artist - Jethro Tull.
Date of issue: 08.06.1997
Thick As A Brick (Part 2) |
See there! |
A man born — and we pronounce him fit for peace |
There’s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease |
We’ll take the child from him put it to the test |
Teach it to be a wise man how to fool the rest |
In the clear white circles of morning wonder |
I take my place with the lord of the hills |
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured |
In neat little rows sporting canvas frills |
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention |
While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen |
Saying -- how’s your granny and |
Good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win |
The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn lie cradled in the seagull’s call |
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist’s fall |
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, behind the gun |
And signal for the crack of dawn. |
Light the sun. |
Light the sun |
Do you believe in the day? |
Do you? |
Believe in the day! |
The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun |
Soft Venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one |
Do you believe? |
Believe in the day! |
Do you believe in the day? |
The fading hero has returned to the night |
And fully pregnant with the day |
Wise men endorse the poet’s sight |
Do you believe in the day? |
Do you? |
Believe in the day! |
Let me tell you the tales of your life |
Of your love and the cut of the knife |
The tireless oppression the wisdom instilled |
The desire to kill or be killed |
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by |
The pavements are empty: the gutters run red — while the fool toasts his god in |
the sky |
So come all ye young men who are building castles! |
Kindly state the time of the year |
And join your voices in a hellish chorus |
Mark the precise nature of your fear |
Let me help you to pick up your dead |
As the sins of the father are fed |
With the blood of the fools and |
The thoughts of the wise |
And from the pan under your bed |
Let me make you a present of song |
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone |
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose |
And the nursery rhyme winds along |
So! |
Come all ye young men who are building castles! |
Kindly state the time of the year |
And join your voices in a hellish chorus |
Mark the precise nature of your fear |
See! |
The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you |
And the hour of judgement draweth near |
Would you be the fool |
Stood in his suit of armour |
Or the wiser man who rushes clear |
So! |
Come on ye childhood heroes! |
Won’t your rise up from the pages |
Of your comic-books your super-crooks |
And show us all the way |
Well! |
Make your will and testament |
Won’t you? |
Join your local government |
We’ll have Superman for president |
Let Robin save the day |
So! |
Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? |
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? |
They’re all resting down in Cornwall — |
Writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual |
So you ride yourselves over the fields |
And you make all your animal deals |
And your wise men don’t know how it feels |
To be thick as a brick |