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Lyrics for A Passion Play by Tull Jethro:
| | | Artist: | Tull Jethro |
| | Album: | Passion Play | | Track: | A Passion Play | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 63 | | | | Lyrics: | "Do you still see me even here?"
The silver cord lies on the ground.
"And so I'm
dead", the young man said
Over the hill, not a wish away.
My friends as one
all stand aligned
Although their taxis came too late.
There was a rush along the
Fulham Road.
There was a hush in the Passion Play.
Such a sense of glowing
in the aftermath
Ripe with rich attainments all imagined
Sad misdeeds in disarray,
the sore thumb screams aloud
Echoing out of the Passion Play.
All the old
familiar choruses come crowding in a different key
Melodies decaying in sweet
dissonance.
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
Into the ever-Passion
Play.
And who comes here to wish me well?
A sweetly-scented angel
fell.
She laid her head upon my disbelief
And bathed me with her
ever-smile.
And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band
Of gentlemen in leather bound
No one but someone to be found.
All along the
icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom.
Roll up roll down, Feeling unwound? Step
into the viewing room.
The cameras were all around, We've got you taped- you're in the
Play.
Here's your I.D., ideal for identifying one and all.
Invest your life
in the memory bank, ours the interest and we
thank you.
The ice-cream lady
wet her drawers, to see you in the Passion Play.
Take the prize for instant
pleasure
Captain of the cricket team
Public speaking in all weathers
A
knighthood from a queen.
All your best friends telephones never cooled from the heat
of
your hand.
From your hand.
There's a line in a front-page story-
13 horses that also-ran.
Also-ran.
Climb in your old umbrella, Does it have a
nasty tear in the dome?
In the dome?
But the rain only gets in sometimes, and the
sun never leaves you
alone.
You alone.
You alone.
Lover of the black and white- it's your first night.
The Passion Play goes all the
way-spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid
Why the
old dog howls in sadness.
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away
on the bony
shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into
her geography revision.
The examining body examined her body.
Actor of the
low-high Q, let's hear your view.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeve, since your memory
won't do.
Tell me how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded
Why the old dogs
howl with madness.
All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the
cat.
And now you've lost a skin or two- you're for us and we for you.
The
dressing room is right behind
We've got you taped, you're in the Play.
How does it
feel to be in the Play?
How does it feel to play the Play?
How does it feel to be
the Play?
Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out.
For we do love
you like a son, of that there's no doubt.
Tell us, is it you who are here for our good
cheer?
Or are we here for the glory, for the story
For the gory satisfaction of
telling you how absolutely awful you
really are?
There was a rush along
the Fulham Road.
There was a hush in the Passion Play.
This is the story of
the hare who lost his spectacles!
Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was
watching. Sitting on a
fence one day, he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran close
by.
Now this may not seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo whisper
to no
one in particular, "The hare has lost his spectacles", well, he
began to wonder.
Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud, and there, lying on
the grass, was
Hare. In the stream that flowed by the grass- a newt.
And sitting astride a twig of a bush-
a bee.
Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with excitement, for
without his spectacles he was completely helpless. Where were his
spectacles? Could
someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid them? What
was he to do?
Bee wanted to
help, and thinking he had the answer, began, "You
probably ate them thinking they were
a carrot".
"No!" interrupted Owl, who was wise. "I have good eysight, insight,
and foresight. How could an intelligent hare make such a silly
mikstake?" But
all this time, Owl had been sitting on the fence,
scowling!
Kangaroo were
hopping mad at this sort of talk. She thought herself
far superior in intelligence to
the others. She was their leader,
their guru. She had the answer: "Hare, you must go
in search of the
optician"
But then she realized that Hare were completely
helpless without his
spectacles. And so, Kangaroo loudly proclaimed, "I can't send Hare
in
search of anything!"
"You can, guru, you can!" shouted Newt. "You can send
him with Owl."
But Owl had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by
so
small a problem: "You can take him in your pouch." But alas, Hare was
much
too big to fit into Kangaroo's pouch.
All this time, it had been quite plain to Hare
that the others knew
nothing about spectacles.
As for all their tempting ideas,
well Hare didn't care.
The lost spectacles were his own affair.
And after all,
Hare did have a spare a-pair...
A-pair...
We sleep by the ever-bright
hole in the door
Eat in the corner, talk to the floor.
Cheating the spiders who
come to say "Please"
Politely they bend at the knees.
Well I'll go to the
foot of our stairs.
Old gentlemen talk of when they were young
Of ladies
lost and erring sons.
Lace-covered dandies revel with friends
Pure as the truth
tied at both ends.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Scented
cathedral-spire pointed down
We pray for souls in Kentish town.
A delicate hush-
the gods floating by
Wishing us well- pie in the sky.
God of Ages, Lord of
Time
Mine is the right to be wrong.
Well I'll go to the foot of our
stairs.
Jack rabbit mister, spawn a new breed
Of love-hungry pilgrims, no
bodies to feed
Show me a good man and I'll show you the door.
The last hymn is
sung and the devil cries "More"
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.
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.
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.
Hail, Son of Kings! Make the
ever-dying sign
Cross your fingers in the sky for those about to BE.
There am I,
waiting along the sand.
Cast your sweet spell upon the land and sea.
Magus
Perde', take your hand from off the chain
Loose a wish to still the rain, the storm about
to BE.
Here am I, Voyager into life.
Tough are the soles that tread the knife's
edge.
Break the circle, stretch the line, call upon the Devil.
Bring the
gods, the gods' own fire in the conflict revel.
The passengers upon the ferry
crossing, waiting to be born
Renew the pledge of life's long song, rise to the reveille
horn.
Animals queueing at the gate that stands upon the shore
Breathe the
ever-burning fire that guards the ever-door.
Man, son of man, buy the flame of
ever-life
Yours to breathe and breath the pain of living, living BE!
Here am I!
Roll the stone away
From the dark into ever-day.
There was a rush along the
Fulham Road
Into the ever-Passion Play | | | |  Reddit | X / Twitter | Facebook | Copy link |
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