| Song | Thick As A Brick |
| Artist | Jethro Tull |
| Album | Rock Of Ages : Milano, Italy - October 13th 1991 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Anderson, Bostock | |
| Really don't mind if you sit this one out. | |
| My words but a whisper -- your deafness a shout. | |
| I may make you feel but i can't make you think. | |
| Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink. | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in | |
| The tidal destruction | |
| The moral melee. | |
| The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers | |
| The newfangled way. | |
| But your new shoes are worn at the heels and | |
| Your suntan does rapidly peel and | |
| Your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the love that i feel is so far away: | |
| I'm a bad dream that i just had today -- and you | |
| Shake your head and | |
| Say it's a shame. | |
| Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. | |
| Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. | |
| Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song. | |
| See there! a son is born -- and we pronounce him fit to fight. | |
| There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night. | |
| We'll | |
| Make a man of him | |
| Put him to trade | |
| Teach him | |
| To play monopoly and | |
| To sing in the rain. | |
| The poet and the painter casting shadows on the water -- | |
| As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea. | |
| The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other -- | |
| As the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed. | |
| The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling -- | |
| But the master of the house is far away. | |
| The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding | |
| In the sharp and frosty morning of the day. | |
| And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword. | |
| And the youngest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside. | |
| The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river | |
| Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea: | |
| The builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose | |
| And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need. | |
| The young men of the household have | |
| All gone into service and | |
| Are not to be expected for a year. | |
| The innocent young master -- thoughts moving ever faster -- | |
| Has formed the plan to change the man he seems. | |
| And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword. | |
| And the oldest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run. | |
| What do you do when | |
| The old man's gone -- do you want to be him? and | |
| Your real self sings the song. | |
| Do you want to free him? | |
| No one to help you get up steam -- | |
| And the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam. | |
| Later. | |
| I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways. | |
| My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed. | |
| So come on all you criminals! | |
| I've got to put you straight just like i did with my old man -- | |
| Twenty years too late. | |
| Your bread and water's going cold. | |
| Your hair is too short and neat. | |
| I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me. | |
| You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone -- you meet the stares. | |
| You're unaware that your doings aren't done. | |
| And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be. | |
| But how are we supposed to see where we should run? | |
| I see you shuffle in the courtroom with | |
| Your rings upon your fingers and | |
| Your downy little sidies and | |
| Your silver-buckle shoes. | |
| Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol | |
| Who lets you bend the rules. | |
| So! | |
| Come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books | |
| Your super crooks | |
| And show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. won't you? | |
| Join your local government. | |
| We'll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time. | |
| The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line. | |
| And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are -- | |
| And take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars. | |
| And you wonder who to call on. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? | |
| They're all resting down in cornwall -- | |
| Writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition | |
| Of the boy scout manual. | |
| Later. | |
| See there! a man born -- and we pronounce him fit for peace. | |
| There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease. | |
| We'll | |
| Take the child from him | |
| Put it to the test | |
| Teach it | |
| To be a wise man | |
| How to fool the rest. | |
| Quote | |
| We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional | |
| God is an overwhelming responsibility | |
| We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons | |
| Cats are on the upgrade | |
| Upgrade? hipgrave. oh, mac. | |
| Later | |
| In the clear white circles of morning wonder, | |
| I take my place with the lord of the hills. | |
| And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows) | |
| Sporting canvas frills. | |
| With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention, | |
| While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen. | |
| Saying -- how's your granny and | |
| Good old ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win. | |
| The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled | |
| In the seagull's call. | |
| And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall. | |
| The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, | |
| And signal for the crack of dawn. | |
| Light the sun. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? | |
| Believe in the day! the dawn creation of the kings has begun. | |
| Soft venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one. | |
| Do you believe in the day? | |
| The fading hero has returned to the night -- and fully pregnant with the day, | |
| Wise men endorse the poet's sight. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? believe in the day! | |
| Let me tell you the tales of your life of | |
| Your love and the cut of the knife | |
| The tireless oppression | |
| The wisdom instilled | |
| The desire to kill or be killed. | |
| Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by. | |
| The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red -- while the fool | |
| Toasts his god in the sky. | |
| So come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed | |
| With | |
| The blood of the fools and | |
| The thoughts of the wise and | |
| From the pan under your bed. | |
| Let me make you a present of song as | |
| The wise man breaks wind and is gone while | |
| The fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and | |
| The nursery rhyme winds along. | |
| So! come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| See! the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you | |
| And the hour of judgement draweth near. | |
| Would you be | |
| The fool stood in his suit of armour or | |
| The wiser man who rushes clear. | |
| So! come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books | |
| Your super-crooks and | |
| Show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. | |
| Won't you? join your local government. | |
| We'll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? | |
| They're all resting down in cornwall -- writing up their memoirs | |
| For a paper-back edition of the boy scout manual. | |
| Of course | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. |
| zuo ci : Anderson, Bostock | |
| Really don' t mind if you sit this one out. | |
| My words but a whisper your deafness a shout. | |
| I may make you feel but i can' t make you think. | |
| Your sperm' s in the gutter your love' s in the sink. | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away in | |
| The tidal destruction | |
| The moral melee. | |
| The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers | |
| The newfangled way. | |
| But your new shoes are worn at the heels and | |
| Your suntan does rapidly peel and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the love that i feel is so far away: | |
| I' m a bad dream that i just had today and you | |
| Shake your head and | |
| Say it' s a shame. | |
| Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. | |
| Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. | |
| Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song. | |
| See there! a son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight. | |
| There are blackheads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night. | |
| We' ll | |
| Make a man of him | |
| Put him to trade | |
| Teach him | |
| To play monopoly and | |
| To sing in the rain. | |
| The poet and the painter casting shadows on the water | |
| As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea. | |
| The doer and the thinker: no allowance for the other | |
| As the failing light illuminates the mercenary' s creed. | |
| The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling | |
| But the master of the house is far away. | |
| The horses stamping their warm breath clouding | |
| In the sharp and frosty morning of the day. | |
| And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword. | |
| And the youngest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside. | |
| The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river | |
| Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea: | |
| The builder of the castles renews the ageold purpose | |
| And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need. | |
| The young men of the household have | |
| All gone into service and | |
| Are not to be expected for a year. | |
| The innocent young master thoughts moving ever faster | |
| Has formed the plan to change the man he seems. | |
| And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword. | |
| And the oldest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run. | |
| What do you do when | |
| The old man' s gone do you want to be him? and | |
| Your real self sings the song. | |
| Do you want to free him? | |
| No one to help you get up steam | |
| And the whirlpool turns you way offbeam. | |
| Later. | |
| I' ve come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways. | |
| My father was a manofpower whom everyone obeyed. | |
| So come on all you criminals! | |
| I' ve got to put you straight just like i did with my old man | |
| Twenty years too late. | |
| Your bread and water' s going cold. | |
| Your hair is too short and neat. | |
| I' ll judge you all and make damn sure that noone judges me. | |
| You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone you meet the stares. | |
| You' re unaware that your doings aren' t done. | |
| And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be. | |
| But how are we supposed to see where we should run? | |
| I see you shuffle in the courtroom with | |
| Your rings upon your fingers and | |
| Your downy little sidies and | |
| Your silverbuckle shoes. | |
| Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comicpaper idol | |
| Who lets you bend the rules. | |
| So! | |
| Come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won' t you rise up from the pages of your comicbooks | |
| Your super crooks | |
| And show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. won' t you? | |
| Join your local government. | |
| We' ll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time. | |
| The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line. | |
| And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are | |
| And take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars. | |
| And you wonder who to call on. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? | |
| They' re all resting down in cornwall | |
| Writing up their memoirs for a paperback edition | |
| Of the boy scout manual. | |
| Later. | |
| See there! a man born and we pronounce him fit for peace. | |
| There' s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease. | |
| We' ll | |
| Take the child from him | |
| Put it to the test | |
| Teach it | |
| To be a wise man | |
| How to fool the rest. | |
| Quote | |
| We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional | |
| God is an overwhelming responsibility | |
| We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons | |
| Cats are on the upgrade | |
| Upgrade? hipgrave. oh, mac. | |
| Later | |
| In the clear white circles of morning wonder, | |
| I take my place with the lord of the hills. | |
| And the blueeyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured in neat little rows | |
| Sporting canvas frills. | |
| With their jockstraps pinching, they slouch to attention, | |
| While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen. | |
| Saying how' s your granny and | |
| Good old ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win. | |
| The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn lie cradled | |
| In the seagull' s call. | |
| And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist' s fall. | |
| The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, | |
| And signal for the crack of dawn. | |
| Light the sun. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? | |
| Believe in the day! the dawn creation of the kings has begun. | |
| Soft venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one. | |
| Do you believe in the day? | |
| The fading hero has returned to the night and fully pregnant with the day, | |
| Wise men endorse the poet' s sight. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? believe in the day! | |
| Let me tell you the tales of your life of | |
| Your love and the cut of the knife | |
| The tireless oppression | |
| The wisdom instilled | |
| The desire to kill or be killed. | |
| Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by. | |
| The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red while the fool | |
| Toasts his god in the sky. | |
| So come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed | |
| With | |
| The blood of the fools and | |
| The thoughts of the wise and | |
| From the pan under your bed. | |
| Let me make you a present of song as | |
| The wise man breaks wind and is gone while | |
| The fool with the hourglass is cooking his goose and | |
| The nursery rhyme winds along. | |
| So! come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| See! the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you | |
| And the hour of judgement draweth near. | |
| Would you be | |
| The fool stood in his suit of armour or | |
| The wiser man who rushes clear. | |
| So! come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won' t your rise up from the pages of your comicbooks | |
| Your supercrooks and | |
| Show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. | |
| Won' t you? join your local government. | |
| We' ll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? | |
| They' re all resting down in cornwall writing up their memoirs | |
| For a paperback edition of the boy scout manual. | |
| Of course | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. |
| zuò cí : Anderson, Bostock | |
| Really don' t mind if you sit this one out. | |
| My words but a whisper your deafness a shout. | |
| I may make you feel but i can' t make you think. | |
| Your sperm' s in the gutter your love' s in the sink. | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away in | |
| The tidal destruction | |
| The moral melee. | |
| The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers | |
| The newfangled way. | |
| But your new shoes are worn at the heels and | |
| Your suntan does rapidly peel and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. | |
| And the love that i feel is so far away: | |
| I' m a bad dream that i just had today and you | |
| Shake your head and | |
| Say it' s a shame. | |
| Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. | |
| Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. | |
| Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song. | |
| See there! a son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight. | |
| There are blackheads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night. | |
| We' ll | |
| Make a man of him | |
| Put him to trade | |
| Teach him | |
| To play monopoly and | |
| To sing in the rain. | |
| The poet and the painter casting shadows on the water | |
| As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea. | |
| The doer and the thinker: no allowance for the other | |
| As the failing light illuminates the mercenary' s creed. | |
| The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling | |
| But the master of the house is far away. | |
| The horses stamping their warm breath clouding | |
| In the sharp and frosty morning of the day. | |
| And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword. | |
| And the youngest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside. | |
| The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river | |
| Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea: | |
| The builder of the castles renews the ageold purpose | |
| And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need. | |
| The young men of the household have | |
| All gone into service and | |
| Are not to be expected for a year. | |
| The innocent young master thoughts moving ever faster | |
| Has formed the plan to change the man he seems. | |
| And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword. | |
| And the oldest of the family is moving with authority. | |
| Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run. | |
| What do you do when | |
| The old man' s gone do you want to be him? and | |
| Your real self sings the song. | |
| Do you want to free him? | |
| No one to help you get up steam | |
| And the whirlpool turns you way offbeam. | |
| Later. | |
| I' ve come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways. | |
| My father was a manofpower whom everyone obeyed. | |
| So come on all you criminals! | |
| I' ve got to put you straight just like i did with my old man | |
| Twenty years too late. | |
| Your bread and water' s going cold. | |
| Your hair is too short and neat. | |
| I' ll judge you all and make damn sure that noone judges me. | |
| You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone you meet the stares. | |
| You' re unaware that your doings aren' t done. | |
| And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be. | |
| But how are we supposed to see where we should run? | |
| I see you shuffle in the courtroom with | |
| Your rings upon your fingers and | |
| Your downy little sidies and | |
| Your silverbuckle shoes. | |
| Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comicpaper idol | |
| Who lets you bend the rules. | |
| So! | |
| Come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won' t you rise up from the pages of your comicbooks | |
| Your super crooks | |
| And show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. won' t you? | |
| Join your local government. | |
| We' ll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time. | |
| The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line. | |
| And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are | |
| And take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars. | |
| And you wonder who to call on. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? | |
| They' re all resting down in cornwall | |
| Writing up their memoirs for a paperback edition | |
| Of the boy scout manual. | |
| Later. | |
| See there! a man born and we pronounce him fit for peace. | |
| There' s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease. | |
| We' ll | |
| Take the child from him | |
| Put it to the test | |
| Teach it | |
| To be a wise man | |
| How to fool the rest. | |
| Quote | |
| We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional | |
| God is an overwhelming responsibility | |
| We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons | |
| Cats are on the upgrade | |
| Upgrade? hipgrave. oh, mac. | |
| Later | |
| In the clear white circles of morning wonder, | |
| I take my place with the lord of the hills. | |
| And the blueeyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured in neat little rows | |
| Sporting canvas frills. | |
| With their jockstraps pinching, they slouch to attention, | |
| While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen. | |
| Saying how' s your granny and | |
| Good old ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win. | |
| The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn lie cradled | |
| In the seagull' s call. | |
| And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist' s fall. | |
| The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, | |
| And signal for the crack of dawn. | |
| Light the sun. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? | |
| Believe in the day! the dawn creation of the kings has begun. | |
| Soft venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one. | |
| Do you believe in the day? | |
| The fading hero has returned to the night and fully pregnant with the day, | |
| Wise men endorse the poet' s sight. | |
| Do you believe in the day? do you? believe in the day! | |
| Let me tell you the tales of your life of | |
| Your love and the cut of the knife | |
| The tireless oppression | |
| The wisdom instilled | |
| The desire to kill or be killed. | |
| Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by. | |
| The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red while the fool | |
| Toasts his god in the sky. | |
| So come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed | |
| With | |
| The blood of the fools and | |
| The thoughts of the wise and | |
| From the pan under your bed. | |
| Let me make you a present of song as | |
| The wise man breaks wind and is gone while | |
| The fool with the hourglass is cooking his goose and | |
| The nursery rhyme winds along. | |
| So! come all ye young men who are building castles! | |
| Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. | |
| Mark the precise nature of your fear. | |
| See! the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you | |
| And the hour of judgement draweth near. | |
| Would you be | |
| The fool stood in his suit of armour or | |
| The wiser man who rushes clear. | |
| So! come on ye childhood heroes! | |
| Won' t your rise up from the pages of your comicbooks | |
| Your supercrooks and | |
| Show us all the way. | |
| Well! make your will and testament. | |
| Won' t you? join your local government. | |
| We' ll have superman for president | |
| Let robin save the day. | |
| So! where the hell was biggles when you needed him last saturday? | |
| And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? | |
| They' re all resting down in cornwall writing up their memoirs | |
| For a paperback edition of the boy scout manual. | |
| Of course | |
| So you ride yourselves over the fields and | |
| You make all your animal deals and | |
| Your wise men don' t know how it feels to be thick as a brick. |