Jethro TullPřidat obrázek!
The minstrel in the gallery Looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes observed the spaces Between the old men's cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred, Oblique suggestions and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters, Static-humming panel-beaters, Freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing). He titillated men-of-action Belly warming, hands still rubbing On the parts they never mention. He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating, One-line jokers, T.V. documentary makers (overfed and undertakers). Sunday paper backgammon players Family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage And he looked at all the friends he'd made. The minstrel in the gallery Looked down on the rabbit-run. And threw away his looking-glass Saw his face in everyone.
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