letra de aqualung - ian 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 rode
salvation a la mode and
a cup of tea.
aqualung my friend —
dont you start away uneasy
you poor old sod you see, its only me.
do you still remember
decembers foggy freeze —
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
and you sn-tch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
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