Interpret:

Jethro Tull

Album:

Catfish Rising

Winds howled. Rains spit down. 
All these nights playing precious games. 
Cheap hotel in some seaboard town 
closed down for the winter and whispered names. 
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea 
snap our heels half-heartedly 
and how come you know better than me 
that this is not love. 
No, this is not love. 


Empty drugstore postcards freeze 
sunburst images of summers gone. 
Think I see us in these promenade days 
before we learned October's song. 
Out on the headland, one gale-whipped tree; 
curious, head bent to see. 
And how come you know better than me 
that this is not love. 


Down to the sad south, smokey plumes 
mark that real world city home. 
Broken spells and silent gloom 
ooze from that concrete honeycomb. 
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea 
snapped our heels half-heartedly 
and how come you know better than me 
that this is not love.