Interpret:

Jethro Tull

Album:

Rupi's Dance

I get lost in crowds: if I can, I remain invisible 
to the hungry mouths. I stay unapproachable. 
I wear the landscape of the urban chameleon. 
Scarred by attention. And quietly addicted to innocence. 


So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you. 
So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to. 
And why not try to interrogate this apparition? 
I melt away to get lost in this quaint condition. 


At starry parties where, amongst the rich and the famous 
I’m stuck for words: or worse, I blether with the best of them. 
I see their eyes glaze and they look for the drinks tray. 
Something in the drift of my conversation bothers them. 


So, who am I? Come on: ask me, etc. 


In scary airports, in concourses over-filled, 
I am detached in serious observation. 
As a passenger, I become un-tethered when 
I get lost in clouds: at home with my own quiet company. 


Herald Tribune or USA Today. Sauvignon Blanc or oaky Chardonnay. 
Asleep for the movie. Awake for the dawn 
dancing on England and hedgerows – 
embossed on a carpet of green. I descend and – 
forgive me – I mean to get lost in crowds.