Interpret:

Jethro Tull

Album:

Minstrel In The Gallery

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. 
There's a picture-view postcard to say that I called. 
You can see from the fireplace, one white duck 
on your wall. 
Isn't it just too damn real? 


So fly away Peter and fly away Paul --- from the 
finger-tip ledge of contentment. 
The long restless rustle of high-heeled boots calls. 
And I'm probably bound to deceive you after all. 


Something must be wrong with me and my brain --- 
if I'm so patently unrewarding. 
But my dreams are for dreaming and best left that 
way --- and my zero to your power of ten equals 
nothing at all. 


There's no double-lock defense; there's no chain on my door. 
I'm available for consultation, 
But remember your way in is also my way out, and 
love's four-letter word is no compensation. 


Well, I'm the Black Ace dog-handler: I'm a waiter on 
skates --- so don't you jump to your foreskin conclusion. 
Because I'm up to my deaf ears in cold breakfast trays --- 
to be cleared before I can dine on your sweet Sunday 
lunch confusion.