Post by crosseyedmary75 on Oct 28, 2021 1:49:25 GMT
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
Your rings upon your fingers
And your downy little sidies
And your silver-buckle shoes
Playing at the hard case
You follow the example
Of the comic-paper idol
Who lets you bend the rules
So, come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you 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
You put your bet on number one
And it comes up every time
The other kids have all backed down
And they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
Just how big you are
And you take your place in a wiser world
Of bigger motor cars
And you wonder who to call on
So! Where the hell was Biggles
When you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen
Who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall
Writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition
Of the Boy Scout Manual
This segment of music from Thick is as beautiful as anything I've ever heard. I think by itself it could be released to play on radio stations. They never played the entire two-sided work. They would cut off after 6 minutes or so, at the most, so this part was never really given much exposure to the public. It is so beauitiful and so powerful, to me.
It takes me back 50 years. I told Ian his music saved my life. This is an example of what kept me from ending it.
No longer a big shot athlete, due to an injury, I watched on the sidelines as others went on to compete at the highest levels of college and professional sport. (A college recruiter asked if I thought it was worthwhile for him to recruit a player who had been my opponent, who went on to play for 2 pro teams. I said, "you bet".) I could only watch them and return to my dorm and drink and cry. I was in agony not being able to play. This lasted, the agony, for years.
Anderson put things in perspective for me when he asked, "Where are all the sportsmen who always pull you through?" They were doing really important things like writing their memoirs, as if anybody would care! especially years after they reached their peak, glory years--just like me!
You had your shot at a bigger motor car, but what good did it do for your soul as the lightening bolts pass judgement on the emptiness of your life?
Anderson forced me to think deeply about life's meaning, if there was any, and inspired me to keep seeking for something of real value to live for. In no time I had become Aqualung, dirty, consumed by lust, smoking nicotine, going nowhere fast with nothing to live for. Or was there? I kept looking because of Ian Anderson.
Your rings upon your fingers
And your downy little sidies
And your silver-buckle shoes
Playing at the hard case
You follow the example
Of the comic-paper idol
Who lets you bend the rules
So, come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you 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
You put your bet on number one
And it comes up every time
The other kids have all backed down
And they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
Just how big you are
And you take your place in a wiser world
Of bigger motor cars
And you wonder who to call on
So! Where the hell was Biggles
When you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen
Who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall
Writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition
Of the Boy Scout Manual
This segment of music from Thick is as beautiful as anything I've ever heard. I think by itself it could be released to play on radio stations. They never played the entire two-sided work. They would cut off after 6 minutes or so, at the most, so this part was never really given much exposure to the public. It is so beauitiful and so powerful, to me.
It takes me back 50 years. I told Ian his music saved my life. This is an example of what kept me from ending it.
No longer a big shot athlete, due to an injury, I watched on the sidelines as others went on to compete at the highest levels of college and professional sport. (A college recruiter asked if I thought it was worthwhile for him to recruit a player who had been my opponent, who went on to play for 2 pro teams. I said, "you bet".) I could only watch them and return to my dorm and drink and cry. I was in agony not being able to play. This lasted, the agony, for years.
Anderson put things in perspective for me when he asked, "Where are all the sportsmen who always pull you through?" They were doing really important things like writing their memoirs, as if anybody would care! especially years after they reached their peak, glory years--just like me!
You had your shot at a bigger motor car, but what good did it do for your soul as the lightening bolts pass judgement on the emptiness of your life?
Anderson forced me to think deeply about life's meaning, if there was any, and inspired me to keep seeking for something of real value to live for. In no time I had become Aqualung, dirty, consumed by lust, smoking nicotine, going nowhere fast with nothing to live for. Or was there? I kept looking because of Ian Anderson.