J-Tull Dot Com lyrics

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue -
Lined with poppy girls.
I didn't stop, stop to say hello.
Curious vendors - waving bric-a-brac -
Looked me over -
Thought it best, best that I should go.

Don't wake me: I'm falling.
Slow spiral into morning.
Who's out there? Can't hear you.
Ears covered - early warning.
Alarm bells ringing.
Time to make my peace with the dreary day.

It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints of autumn from the hills.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

Executive accommodation
Bland but nonetheless appealing
Waiters discretely at your beck and call

Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn:
nose pressed against the triple glaze.
Floor to ceiling, wall to wall,
silent traffic streams both ways.
Along the fussy freeway drivers
dream of sunday barbecues.
Of a sudden, seems I can barely
face my self: no face to lose.
Call the bosses. Call supervisors.
Won't be in today to work for you.

that girl who's working nights.

There's a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way.

And there's a note on the telephone --- some roses on a

tray.

And the motorway's stretching right out to us all,
as I pull on my old wings --- one white duck

on your wall.

Isn't it just too damn real?

I'll catch a ride on your violin --- strung upon your bow.

And I'll float on your melody --- sing your chorus soft

and low.

I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver
and hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over.
Now and then: memories of men who loved me.
No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me.

I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow.
Caught up in circumstance. Harsh truth for history to mellow.
Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation

Hey little buddies:
soft and silky night walkers.
Dangerous species -
Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers
on my bed:
no butter melting in your jaws.
Bonding monster -
Lethal weapon wearing claws.

Let's go out to hunt by numbers.

Tabby, spotted, black as coal -
Serval, Margy, Caracal.
Moggie in the moonlight listens:
whiskered sensory miracle.
Felis, befriend us -

Hot mango flush.
Ladies with ice cream hair -
Gyroscopic pink neon beams -
Everybody's happy about something.
The crowd moves like a flock of startings: they
switch direction as one.
Jive on the jukebox - Jack and Joker
split the night air with whoop and holler.
Faint aroma - wood smoke, old fish,
diesel harbour, roadside mongrel,
painted man with buttons barely

Hand in the snake pit - black mamba chase.
Head through the lion's cage - head on a plate.
Two feet on the hot coals - last dance at the ball.
Blindfold on the tightrope - whenever you call.
Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me.

Dark thoughts of the sleepless - hung out to dry.
Slip through the bedclothes - unblinking eye.
Long tongue flickering - fixed stare grip.

Hot Mango Flush

She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes.
It's a sensitive passage she's sailing -
Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings.

She rises before me, reading me clearly.
Empty nest left pressed in the pillow.
She can shift, she can sway
and bend like a willow.

I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap.
Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre.

Placing people in their dreamscape
with fantasies of foreign fields
Lofty spires all well appointed
In off-season special deals.

To far Alaska: down to Ria in the Carnival
Norwegian fjords in the ever-light of Solstice call

A part of me might travel with you
in a freebie bucket seat for one
Business First - at last, forever
Hopeless thoughts of flying fun

Rusted and ropy.
Dog-eared old copy.
Vintage and classic,
or just plain Jurassic:
all words to describe me.

Relaxed in the knowledge
that happily present
are all things to sustain me,
nurture and claim me:
roll back the mileage.

You have settled beside me.
To the far and the wide of me.
A matter of choosing,
of finding and losing
on the rough ride with me.

I count the hours: you count the days.
Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play.
Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train
on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.

Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon.
Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part.
Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses: