C.o.W.banner


AQUALUNG ~

Lyrics

Aqualung front coverAqualung back cover

(1971)

Introduction Site Map Site Search TullSongs TullAlbums TullScapes
TullBooks TullUnreleased TullClips TullLinks TullResources About & Awards

 

Aqualung

Cross-Eyed Mary

Cheap Day Return

Mother Goose

Wond'ring Aloud

Up To Me

My God

Hymn 43

Slipstream

Locomotive Breath

Wind Up



(Left part of the inside album cover; all paintings were made by Burton Silverman.)

 

Part 1: Aqualung

Aqualung

(Lyrics by Jennie Anderson)
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 road
salvation  la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend 
don't you 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.
Top of page

Cross-Eyed Mary

Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief 
if he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
from a laughing baby's mouth
if he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
but she always plays the game.
Dines in Hampstead village
on expense accounted gruel,
and the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground  gets no kicks from little boys:
would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She's a poor man's rich girl
and she'll do it for a song.
She's a rich man stealer
but her favour's good and strong:
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate 
helps the poor man get along.
Top of page

Cheap Day Return

On Preston platform
do your soft shoe shuffle dance.
Brush away the cigarette ash that's
falling down your pants.
And you sadly wonder
does the nurse treat your old man
the way she should.
She made you tea,
asked for your autograph 
what a laugh.
Top of page

Mother Goose

As I did walk by Hampstead Fair
I came upon Mother Goose so I turned her loose 
she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me 
was it really true there are elephants and lions too
in Piccadilly Circus?

Walked down by the bathing pond
to try and catch some sun.
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing
into hankerchiefs as one.
I don't believe they knew
I was a schoolboy.

And a bearded lady said to me 
if you start your raving and your misbehaving 
you'll be sorry.
Then the chicken-fancier came to play 
with his long red beard (and his sister's weird:
she drives a lorry).

Laughed down by the putting green 
I popped `em in their holes.
Four and twenty labourers were labouring 
digging up their gold.
I don't believe they knew
that I was Long John Silver.

Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) 
stole it from a snow man.

Real Player video clip of "Mother Goose", performed live at NBC Night, April 6 1996.
By kind permisson of Laufi.
Top of page

Wond'ring Aloud

Wond'ring aloud 
how we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset 
my hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
as we start both our hearts beating life
into each other.

Wond'ring aloud 
will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
and I shake my head.

And it's only the giving
that makes you what you are.
Top of page

Up To Me

Take you to the cinema
and leave you in a Wimpy Bar
you tell me that we've gone to far 
come running up to me.
Make the scene at Cousin Jack's 
leave him put the bottles back 
mends his glasses that I cracked 
well that one's up to me.
Buy a silver cloud to ride 
pack the tennis club inside 
trouser cuffs hung far too wide 
well it was up to me.
Tyres down on your bicycle 
your nose feels like an icicle 
the yellow fingered smoky girl
is looking up to me.
Well I'm a common working man
with a half of bitter  bread and jam
and if it pleases me I'll put one on you man 
when the copper fades away.
The rainy season comes to pass 
the day-glo pirate sinks at last 
and if I laughed a bit to fast.
Well it was up to me.
Top of page



(Middle part of the inside album cover.)

 

 

Part 2: My God

The Aqualung Creed

My God

People  what have you done:
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion 
Him resurrected from the grave
from the grave.
He is the god of nothing 
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything 
He's inside you and me.

So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England 
in chains of history 
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.

And the graven image you-know-who 
with His plastic crucifix 
he's got him fixed
confuses me as to who and where and why 
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin 
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.
Top of page

Hymn 43

Oh father high in heavensmile down upon your son
whose busy with his money games  his women and his gun.
Oh Jesus save me!
And the unsung Western hero killed an Indian or three
and made his name in Hollywood
to set the white man free.
Oh Jesus save me!
If Jesus saves well, He'd better save Himself
from the gory glory seekers who use His name in death.
Oh Jesus save me!
I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon 
His cross was rather bloody 
He could hardly roll His stone.
Oh Jesus save me!
Top of page

Slipstream

Well the lush separation unfolds you 
and the products of wealth
push you along on the bow wave
of the spiritless undying selves.
And you press on God's waiter your last dime 
as he hands you the bill.
And you spin in the slipstream 
tideless -  unreasoning -
paddle right out of the mess.
Top of page

Locomotive Breath

In the shuffling madness
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all-time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping 
steam breaking on his brow 
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going 
no way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
at the stations  one by one.
His woman and his best friend 
in bed and having fun.
He's crawling down the corridor
on his hands and knees 
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going 
no way to slow down.
He hears the silence howling 
catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideons Bible 
open at page one 
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won't stop going 
no way to slow down.

Real Player video clip of "Locomotive Breath", performed live at the Pistoia Blues Festival, Italy,
July 18, 1999. By kind permission of Laufi.
Top of page

Wind Up

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm 
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said: "I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays".
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers 
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines 
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me  compose a better song
'cause that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Top of page



(Right part of the inside album cover)

 

"Aqualung" is on line available at:

 

All Lyrics: Chrysalis Records Ltd., London, UK, 1971 - All Rights Reserved.

APP ballerina

Previous album: Benefit

Next album: Thick As A Brick