Interpret:

Jethro Tull

Album:

Broadsword and the Beast

In the half-tone light of a young morning 
she sighs and shifts on the pillow. 
And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly 
to kiss the Pussy Willow. 
In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing 
in a sad voice nobody hears. 
She waits in her castle of make-believe 
for her white knight to appear. 
Pusy Willow down fur-lined avenue 
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. 
Runs for the train, see: eight o'clock's coming 
cutting dreams down to size again. 
Pussy Willow down fur-lined avenue, 
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. 
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming, 
cutting dreams down to size again. 
She longs for the East and a pale dress flowing 
an apartment in old Mayfair. 
Or to fish the Spey, spinning the first run of Spring 
or to die for a cause somewhere. 
Pussy Willow down fur-lined avenue, 
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes. 
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming, 
cutting dreams down to size again. 
Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow.