Artist: Ian Anderson Album: The Secret Language Of Birds {2000}

This sparkling wine is all but empty
Too late for trains and no taxis
I know the feeling seems all too contrived
There was no master plan but the fact is
You must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

A tentative dawn about to be breaking 
On a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding
And the truth of the matter yet to be spoken 
In words on which everything, everything's riding
Now, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Now, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Circled by swallows in a world for the weary
Courted by warblers, wicked and eloquent trilling

Lie in the stillness, window cracked open
Extended moments, hours for the taking
Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke
Painted verse with a chorus, a chorus in waiting
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Yeah, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Stay with me, learn the secret language of birds
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds
Yeah, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Down at the church the flower girl sits, legs innocent, apart
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart
Painted sister stopped beside, a word upon her saintly lip
Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip

Well, I don't know where she might go when she runs home at night
It's for the best, I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine

I have touched that face a dozen times before and I have let my pencil run
Laid down washes on a foreign shore under a hot foreign sun
My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift, I mean no harm

I close the door, she is no more until the next appointed hour
Northeastern light, push back the night, painted promises in store
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine

Down at the church my flower girl sits, legs innocent, apart
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart
My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift, I mean no harm, I mean no harm, I mean

Fires on the mountain and the dogs bark
Crash of the ocean swelling, crickets in the dark
The temperature is rising, the village gets no sleep
It's hardly surprising given the hot company they keep

Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins
Somebody's life in the lost and found
Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe
Sinking feeling, sink another beer down

Hey, Jimmy, what you doing here 
Looking up at the high cloud cover, so far and yet so near
Flying in with the chopper, lieutenant of the crown
Tell the boys from that CNN the good cops have come to town

Angry island, no-one's listening
Shamrock villa, green to grey
Down in the swamp, iguanas glistening
Toast tomorrow, if not, today

In the shadow of the Souffriere, under Chance�s Peak
Did the earth move for you, honey - well, come back next week
Queen and country forsaken you - now, that is that
See, the governor is leaving in his Sunday hat

Angry island, no-one's listening
Shamrock villa, green to grey
Down in the swamp, iguanas glistening
Toast tomorrow, if not, today

Hey, Jimmy, what you doing here 
You a scientist, you a newsman, or simply come to feel the fear 
And the temperature is rising and we're in too deep
There really is no point in disguising the hot company we keep

My eyes are white circles above cheekbones on fire, pale hand gripping my pen
Rounding up to the zero, adding infinite fractions, letting nine become ten
Two pink doves strut the shingles picking crumbs from the breakfast I saved for you dear
And I wish you were here on this postcard day

Focus on the fine indeterminate line where the sky meets the sea
Desperate midweek words, banal and absurd, freely flow out of me
Well, I may be a hostage to summer - but I'm a hostage, not a slave
And I'm clear that I wish you were here on this postcard day

Precious cargo of flotsam, mixed memories on an ocean tide 
Swim madly with spice from the orient on a mystery watery carpet ride
With the sun going down, the wind goes around
Blows them back out of mind

My eyes are white circles staring down past the point of my restless pen
While the ghosts of my youth, all sworn to the truth, call my name again
Two brown legs don't make a summer, two brown arms couldn't keep me away
Well, my dear, I wish you were here on this, on this postcard day

Crystal fountain springing from the hill
It irrigates your soul, you may drink your fill
Water of life, carried high
One hand upon the gallon jar, feel her fix my eye

Every good traveler�s for the taking
All good money for the making
Seller's market, wet appeal
Water carrier, let's make the deal

Covered face and black pool eyes
Between us, no words spoken, no words to the wise
Here's to another time and a drink somewhere
Plush on a Nain carpet, on a caf� chair

Every good traveler�s for the taking
All good money for the making
Seller's market, wet appeal
Water carrier, let's make the deal

Hard black crows bobbing where once ran deep furrows
Frazzled oak silhouetted in her ivy dress
Winter sun catches dog fox through thin hedges
Throws his long shadow north to the emptiness
Farmhouse in tatters, shuttered and battered
Even lovers don't go there these last few years
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes 
Standing lost in a landscape of tears

Farmhouse in tatters, shuttered and battered
Even lovers don't go there these last few years
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes 
Standing lost in a landscape of tears

I see you better now, shaded in deeper blue
Hardly needing to carry the find-your-way lamp down to the river
And tonight flies a better moon

Sad water buffalo lie fast near the shallows
A splash revealing the fly-catching fishes, dark gods silently watching
And tonight flies a better moon

Guess you've known lovers here, compliant in passion
Softly laid in the old reed bed, harshly lit in the noon sun
And tonight flies a better moon

Now, cloaked in this milky light, new as the virgin dawn
Shrouded sweetly in all kinds of mystery, you turn, smile and then are gone
And tonight flies a better moon
And tonight flies a better moon
And tonight flies a better moon

Dear uncle sold her into, into the purest kind of slavery
Hood-eyed little middlemen profited from damaged goods along the way
Good angels brought her back to a last Nepal summer
Debased and hollow-faced, a smile might become her
Now she cosied up, cosied up and comforted in the warm flush of September
Gone before winter, wondering as to might-have-beens
Somebody's daughter, in sanctuary waiting

Seen through softer cage of kindness, far and further still away
From time-warp Victorian zoos, where staring ice cream gameboys play
Big paws, worn claws and swishing tails
More damaged goods in the market sales
Too proud for anger, too late for hate - resigned in dignity
Gone before winter, purring might-have-beens
Somebody's kitten, in sanctuary waiting

Gone before winter, wondering as to might-have-beens
Somebody near you, in sanctuary waiting

In all my life I never knew a girl like you before
Woke up one day, I swore I heard the sound of heaven knocking on my door
And after all these years, long passing
Time to reflect, no time for wasting
Walking down the jasmine corridor
Reflecting echoes of quiet laughter

In all my life I was never better served than I was served by you
And in my way, hope you agree I tried to serve you, too
Out on the headland I stepped once, unsteady
You there to catch me, I breathe more freely
Hand in mine down the jasmine corridor
Reflecting echoes of quiet laughter

Through all my life I chased flitting illusions at a faster pace
Never stopped to think the moment was for seizing, had myself to face
You made my bed to lie in stately
Mad cats, grandchildren, here more often lately
The final view from the jasmine corridor
Reflecting echoes of quiet laughter

Cool in the corner, tom cat sitting 
On the edge of the yard, sand-flies flitting
Orange order on a field of green
Smothers me to smithereens

Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how d'you feel 
Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel

Troubled skin, pour oil upon it
She's fit to burn in her new Scotch Bonnet
Spice up anybody's stew
Frogs and goats and chickens, too

Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how d'you feel 
Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel

Barefoot in the sunshine
Kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line
Big wave nearly float your dress away
And I'm thinking that it's just another day, just another day

Feel that hot rush start its tickle
Sweat is rising, taste buds prickle 
With ears of bat and eye of eagle
It's just as well, it's strictly legal

Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing
Long hair swinging, tell me how d'you feel 
Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel

Barefoot in the sunshine
Kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line
Big wave nearly float your dress away
And I'm thinking that it's just another day, just another day

Night close in on a shanty town
Panama freighter, wearing rusty brown
But she sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound
Head up on a lumpy sea, on a lumpy sea

I'm not the only lonely planet rider 
In this one horse town, I'm thinking
And I won't overrate or patronize you

I know we're as different as chalk and cheese
As black hole winters and salad days
And I wouldn't like your mother much anyway
But it's not her I'm taking home with me, not her I�m taking home with me

Don't intend to dress you in silver threads 
Like some trophy in sublime seclusion
Won't try to educate or civilize you

Night close in on a shanty town
Panama freighter wearing rusty brown
Well, she sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound 
And you're bound to come home with me, bound to come home with me
And you're bound to come home with me, on the Panama freighter with me

No buzz words, fuzzy fudge words
So freeze those goalposts, don't take the Admiral on board
This Hardy's not for kissing
Expression, no explosion
Or whispered promises in clich� or in rhyme
Instead let's talk the secret language of birds

Right time but the wrong idea
Well, you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale 
Still over there in Berkeley Square

Do we have problems of communication 
There's something I don't know and you can't explain it to me
Let's talk the secret language of birds

Step out of the circus now
Oh, learn a new trick and make it stick
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale 
Still over there in Berkeley Square

Finger tracing on misty window
I'm reading loud and clear this salacious semaphore
As you leave me standing at the station
Give it to me - the big dawn chorus
No whispered promises in clich� or in rhyme
Let's talk the secret language of birds

Right time but the wrong idea
Well, you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale 
Still over there in Berkeley Square

It�s the right time but the wrong idea
Well, you're making it all sound just the same
Try taking it up a key like that nightingale 
Still over there in Berkeley Square
In Berkeley Square, in

INSTRUMENTAL

Pick up my wings and fly 
Into a Constable sky
Look down on the world and try 
To make you out on the distant ground
Lonely toy in a lost toy town
Suspended in spiral sounds
Sounds of circular breathing

I'm a kite on a silver thread
Daring lightning to strike me dead
Harsh echoes of things you said 
Banished me to a thinner space 
With unholy ghosts of your bedroom face
Hands cupped to my ears to place 
The sound of circular breathing

Matchbox cityscape below
I watch Lowry matchstick figures go
Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence

See the matchbox cityscape below
I watch Lowry matchstick figures go
Caught in the timeless ebb and flow of discreet silence

Pick up my wings and fly 
Into a Constable sky
Look down on the world and try 
To make you out on the distant ground
Lonely toy in a lost toy town
Suspended in spiral sounds
Sounds of circular breathing

INSTRUMENTAL

This is one from an Ian Anderson solo album four or five years ago
from the album Divinities, it's a piece called In The Grip Of Stronger Stuff.


INSTRUMENTAL

Really don't mind if you sit this one out
My words but a whisper, your deafness a shout
I may make you feel but I can't make you think
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink
So you ride yourselves over the fields 
And you make all your animal deals 
And your wise men don't know how it feels 
To be thick as a brick
All right

And the sand castle virtues are all swept away 
In the tidal destruction, the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play 
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels 
And your suntan does rapidly peel 
And your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick

And the love that I feel is so far away
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
Well, and you shake your head and said it's a shame