Testi:
Jethro Tull 20 Years Of Jethro Tull

was a long time gone. And now here you are. You're locked in your own excuse. The circle's getting smaller every day. You're busy planning your next fifty years

Flying made of sticks and paper: aeroplane. Dying is the wind but climbing, my aeroplane. Blowing, and going somewhere high in the evening tumbling

(Instrumental)

Walking on air, shoulder and head above you. Down in the street, black canyons walking through. Hooded sad eyes, fixed on your shuffle shoes. Life

Blew my smoke on a sunny day, when the first black powder came my way. Hot lead ball from a muzzle cold to win fair lady and take your gold. I know

There was a warm wind with the high tide on the south of the hill. When a young girl went a-walking and I followed with a will. ``Good day to you

I'll see you at the weighing in when your life's sum-total's made. And you set your wealth in godly deeds against the sins you've laid. So place

When we're working nights, the village round the old church becomes scary town. All curtained windows and bolted doors but never a eye to see as

What would you like for Christmas: a new polarity? You're binary, and desperate to deal in high figures that lick us with their hotter flame lick