Thick as a Brick, Part 1 Songtext
von Jethro Tull

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 you 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 how 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: 0
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
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