paroles de chanson From a Dead Beat To an Old Greaser (Steven Wilson Stereo Mix) - Jethro Tull

From a dead beat, to an old greaser:
Here's thinking of you.
You won't remember the long nights,
Coffee bars, and black tights
And white thighs in shop windows
Where blond assistants fully-fashioned a world
Made of dummies, with no mummies
Or daddies to reject them.
When bombs were banned every Sunday
And the Shadows did F.B.I.
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments
Of torture;
Sat in the station, sharing wet dreams
Of Charlie Parker, Jack Kerouac,
Rene Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
Who were too wise for their own good;
Left the young brood to go on living
Without them.
Old queers with young faces, who remember
Your name
Though you're a dead beat with tired feet;
Two ends that don't meet.
From a dead beat to an old greaser:
Think you must have me all wrong.
I didn't care, friend; I wasn't there, friend.
If it's the price of a pint that you need, ask me again.