Δυο πολύτιμα δείγματα της λυρικής πλευράς του συνθέτη του μήνα, από το Minstrel In The Gallery, ένα από τα αγαπημένα μου άλμπουμ των Jethro Tull.
Two precious specimens of the lyrical side of the composer of the month, from Minstrel In The Gallery, one of my favorite Jethro Tull albums.

REQUIEM [00:00]
Well, I saw a bird today
Flying from a bush
And the wind blew it away.
And the black-eyed mother sun
Scorched the butterfly at play
Velvet veined. I saw it burn.
With a wintry storm-blown sigh,
A silver cloud blew right on by.
And, taking in the morning, I sang
O Requiem.
Well, my lady told me, “Stay.”
I looked aside and walked away
Along the strand.
But I didn’t say a word,
As the train time-table blurred
Close behind the taxi stand.
Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window.
Fading into the traffic; watched her go.
And taking in the morning,
Heard myself singing
O Requiem.
Here I go again.
It’s the same old story.
Well, I saw a bird today
I looked aside and walked away
Along the Strand.

ONE WHITE DUCK / O10 = NOTHING AT ALL [03:45]
A one, two, three.
There’s a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way –
And there’s a note on the telephone – some roses on a tray.
And the motorway’s stretching right out to us all, as I pull on my old
Wings – one white duck on your wall.
Isn’t it just too damn real? one white duck on your wall.
One duck on your wall.
I’ll catch a ride on your violin – strung upon your bow.
And I’ll float on your melody – sing your chorus soft and low.
There’s a picture-view postcard to say that I called.
You can see from the fireplace, one white duck on your wall.
Isn’t it just too damn real? one white duck on your wall.
One duck on your wall.
So fly away peter and fly away Paul – from the finger-tip ledge of contentment.
The long restless rustle of high heel boots calls.
And I’m probably bound to deceive you after all.
Something must be wrong with me and my brain – if I’m so patently unrewarding.
But my dreams are for dreaming and best left that way – and my zero to your
Power of ten equals nothing at all.
There’s no double-lock defense; there’s no chain on my door.
And I’m available for consultation,
But remember your way in is also my way out, and love’s four-letter word is
No compensation.
Well, I’m the black ace dog handler: I’m a waiter on skates – so don’t you
Jump to your foreskin conclusion
Because I’m up to my deaf ears in cold breakfast trays
To be cleared before I can dine on your sweet Sunday lunch confusion.