Lyrics - Baker Street Muse (mother England Reverie) by Jethro Tull

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 publicbar.
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 lightthis 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-sidedun-reality.
And when all's said and all's done - couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead-certainty - that
I'm just a
Baker
Street
Muse.
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 stationstand.
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 -
I'm just a
Baker
Street
Muse.
I'm just a
Baker
Street
Muse.
Just a
Baker
Street
Muse.
Just a
Baker
Street
Muse.

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