Baker St Muse - Jethro Tull

Windy bus-stop Click Shop-window Heel

Shady gentleman Fly-button Feel

In the underpass the blind man stands

With cold flute hands

Symphony match-seller breath out of time

You can call me on another line

Indian restaurants that curry my brain

Newspaper warriors changing the names

They advertise from the station stand

With cold print hands

Symphony word-player I'll be your headline

If you catch me another time

Didn't make her

With my Baker Street Ruse

Couldn't shake her

With my Baker Street Bruise

Like to take her

But I'm just a Baker Street Muse

Ale-spew puddle-brew

Boys throw it up clean

Coke and Bacardi colours them green

From the typing pool goes

The mini-skirted princess with great finesse

Fertile earth-mother

Your burial mound is fifty feet down

In the Baker Street underground

(What the hell )

I didn't make her

With my Baker Street Ruse

Couldn't shake her

With my Baker Street Bruise

Like to take her

But I'm just a Baker Street Muse

Walking down the gutter thinking

"How the hell am I today "

Well I didn't really ask you

But thanks all the same

"Big bottled Fraulein

Put your weight on me "

Said the Pygmy And The Whore

Desperate for more

In his assault upon the mountain

Little man his youth a fountain

Overdrafted and still counting

Vernacular verbose;

An attempt at getting close

To where he came from

In the doorway of the stars

Between Blandford Street and Mars;

Proposition deal Flying button feel

Testicle testing

Wallet ever-bulging

Dressed to the left

Divulging the wrinkles of his years

Wedding-bell induced fears

Shedding bell-end tears

In the pocket of her resistance

International assistance flowing generous

And full to his never-ready tool

Pulls his eyes over her wool

And he shudders as he comes

And my rudder slowly turns me

Into the Marylebone Road

And here slip I

Dragging one foot in the gutter

In the midnight echo of

The shop that sells cheap radios

And there sits she

No bed no bread no butter

On a double yellow line

Where she can park anytime

Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer

Some only son's mother

Baker Street casualty

Oh Mr Policeman

Blue shirt ballet master

Feet in sticking plaster

Move the old lady on

Strange pas-de-deux

His Romeo to her Juliet

Her sleeping draught his poisoned regret

No drunken bums allowed to

Sleep here in the crowded emptiness

Oh officer let me send her to a cheap hotel

I'll pay the bill and make her well

Like hell you bloody will

No do-good over kill

We must teach them to be still more independent

I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone

I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones

I have no house in the country I have no motor car

And if you think I'm joking

Then I'm just a one-line joker in a public bar

And it seems there's no-body

Left for tennis; and I'm a one-band-man

And I want no Top Twenty

Funeral or a hundred grand

There was a little boy stood on a burning log

Rubbing his hands with glee

He said "Oh Mother England

Did you light my smile;

Or did you light this fire under me

One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery

And paint you a picture of the queen

And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree

It's just the nonsense that it seems "

So I drift down through the Baker Street valley

In my steep-sided un-reality

And when all is said and all is done

I couldn't wish for a better one

It's a real-life ripe dead certainty

That I'm just a Baker Street Muse

I talking to the gutter-stinking

Winking in the same old way

I tried to catch my eye

But I looked the other way

Indian restaurants that curry my brain

Newspaper warriors changing

The names they advertise

From the station stand

Circumcised with cold print hands

Windy bus-stop Click

Shop-window Heel

Shady gentleman

Fly-button Feel

In the underpass the blind man stands

With cold flute hands

Symphony match-seller

Breath out of time

You can call me on another line

Didn't make her

With my Baker Street Ruse

Couldn't shake her

With my Baker Street Bruise

Like to take her

But I'm just a Baker Street Muse

I'm just a Baker Street Muse

Just a Baker Street Muse

Just a Baker Street Muse

I'm just a Baker Street Muse

I can't get out

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