Χαρακτηριστικό της εξέλιξης της ποπ κουλτούρας, και της πολιτικο-κοινωνικής αντίστοιχής της της ίδιας περιόδου [μισός αιώνας], είναι ότι ένα άλμπουμ σαν το A Passion Play, βρετανικής προελεύσεως και αποτελούμενο από δυο 20λεπτα tracks, είχε φτάσει στο Νο 1 του αμερικάνικου Billboard . Ακριβώς όπως και το προηγούμενό του, επίσης αποτελούμενο από δυο 20λεπτα tracks, Thick As A Brick  επίσης των Jethro Tull.
Ακούμε ένα εκτεταμένο απόσπασμα από το δεύτερο μέρος του μεγαλειώδους Passion Play.
Typical of pop culture’s evolution, and its political-social counterpart of the same period [half a century], is that an album like A Passion Play, of British origin and consisting of two 20-minute tracks, had reached No. 1 on the US Billboard chart . Just like its predecessor, also consisting of two 20-minute tracks, Thick As A Brick  also by Jethro Tull.
We hear an excerpt from the second part of the magnificent Passion Play.
THE FOOT OF OUR STAIRS – conclusion [00:00]
Well, I’m all for leaving and that being done,
I’ve put in a request to take up my turn
In that forsaken paradise that calls itself “Hell”
Where no-one has nothing and nothing is well meaning fool,
Pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling.
Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.
OVERSEER OVERTURE [00:41]
Colors I’ve none, dark or light, red, white or blue.
Cold is my touch (freezing).
Summoned by name, I am the overseer over you.
Given this command to watch o’er our miserable sphere.
Fallen from grace, called on to bring sun or rain.
Occasional corn from my oversight grew.
Fell with mine angels from a far better place,
offering services for the saving of face.
Now you’re here, you may as well admire
all whom living has retired from the benign reconciliation.
Legends were born surrounding mysterious lights
seen in the sky (flashing).
I just lit a fag then took my leave in the blink of an eye.
Passionate play join round the maypole in dance
(primitive rite) (wrongly).
Summoned by name I am the overseer over you.
FLIGHT FROM LUCIFER [04:41]
Flee the icy Lucifer.
Oh he’s an awful fellow!
What a mistake!
I didn’t take a feather from his pillow.
Here’s the everlasting rub: neither am I good or bad.
I’d give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.
I’m only breathing.
There’s life on my ceiling.
The flies there are sleeping quietly.
Twist my right arm in the dark.
I would give two or three for
one of those days that never made
impressions on the old score.
I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone’s saved we’re in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.
Time for awaking the tea lady’s making
a brew-up and baking new bread.
Pick me up at half past none
there’s not a moment to lose.
There is the train on which I came.
On the platform are my old shoes.
Station master rings his bell.
Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).
I thank everybody
for making me welcome.
I’d stay but my wings have just dropped off.