Aqualung
Composer(s): Jennie Anderson - Ian Anderson
Performer(s): Jethro Tull



Sitting on a park bench 
eyeing little girls with bad intent 
Snot running down his nose  
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes 
Drying in the cold sun  
Watching as the frilly panties run 
Feeling like a dead duck 
spitting out pieces of his broken luck
Sun streaking cold  
an old man wandering lonely 
Taking time 
the only way he knows 
Leg hurting bad 
as he bends to pick a dog-end  
he goes down to the bog 
and warms his feet 
Feeling alone  
the army's up the rode 
salvation `a la mode and 
a cup of tea 
Aqualung my friend 
don't start away uneasy 
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me 
Do you still remember 
December's foggy freeze  
when the ice that 
clings on to your beard is 
screaming agony 
And you snatch your rattling last breaths 
with deep-sea-diver sounds 
and the flowers bloom like 
madness in the spring