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 s****'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.
See there! A son is born -
and we p***ounce 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 a 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: 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.
I've come down from the upper class
to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man of power
whom everyone obeyed.
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.
My words but a whisper - your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your s****'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.
See there! A son is born -
and we p***ounce 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 a 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: 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.
I've come down from the upper class
to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man of power
whom everyone obeyed.
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.