Текст (слова) песни: Jethro Tull - From A Dead Beat To An Old Greaser
From a dead beat to an old greaser, here`s thinking of you. You won`t remember the long nights; coffee bars; black tights and white thighs in shop windows where blonde 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 played 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, Ren`e 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. To a dead beat from 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 pint that you need, ask me again.
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