Artist: Jethro Tull Album: A {1980}

Spring light in a hazy May and a man with a gun at the door
Someone's crawling on the roof above, all the media here for the show
I've been waiting for our friends to come like spiders down ropes to free-fall
A thirty round clip for a visiting card, admit one to the embassy ball

Caught in the crossfire on Prince's Gate Avenue
In go the windows, out go the lights
So, call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight

I'm just a soul with an innocent face, a regular boy dressed in blue
Conducting myself in a proper way as befitting the job that I do
They came down on me like a ton of bricks, swept off my feet, knocked about
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait for the hard men to get me out

Caught in the crossfire on Prince's Gate Avenue
In go the windows, out go the lights
Call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight

Calm reason floats from the street below and the slow fuse burns through the night
Everyone's tried to talk it through but they can't seem to get the deal right
Somewhere there are Brownings in a two-hand hold, cocked and locked, one up the spout
There's nothing for it but to sit and wait for the hard men to get me out

I�m caught in the crossfire on Prince's Gate Avenue
In go the windows, out go the lights
So, call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight

In go the windows
So, call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
Down on the floor
Caught in the crossfire, Prince's Gate Avenue
In go the windows
So, call me a doctor, fetch me a policeman
Down on the floor
Caught in the crossfire, Prince's Gate Avenue
In go the windows
Call me a doctor

Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line
No fanfare, just a blip on the screen
No quick conclusions now, everything will be fine
Short-circuit glitch and not what it seems
Fylingdale Flyer - you're only half way there
Green screen liar - for a second or so we were running scared

On late shift, feeling drowsy, eyes glued to the display
Dead cert alert, lit match to the straw
One last quick game of bowls, we can still win the day
Fail-safe, forget the things that you saw
Fylingdale Flyer - you're only half way there
Green screen liar - for a second or so we were running scared

They checked the systems through and they read a-okay
Some tiny fuse has probably blown
Sit back, relax and soon it will just go away
Keep your hands off that red telephone
Fylingdale Flyer - you're only half way there
Green screen liar - for a second or so we were running scared

Fylingdale Flyer - you're only half way there
Green screen liar - for a second or so we were running scared

When I was a young man, as all good tales begin
I was taught to hold out my hand
And for my pay I worked an honest day
And took what pittance I could win

Now, I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe
And I'm doing what I know for God and the economy
Big brother watches over me
And the state protects and feeds me
And my conscience never leaves me
And I'm loyal to the unions who protect me at all levels

Now, as I grew, the winds of fortune blew
And the banks smiled down upon me
And mortgaged to the hilt I threw
The breeze of caution behind me

Now, I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe
And I'm good at what I know and God and the economy
Have blessed me with equality
Now, I'm equal to the best of you
And better than the rest of you
Who would criticize my success in times of national unrest

Now, I own a horseless carriage in its central-heated garage
And I commute eighty miles a day, up at seven to make it pay
I direct ten limited companies with seeming consummate expertise
Two ulcers and a heart disease, a trembling feeling in both knees

And I'm a working John, I'm a working Joe
And I'm good at what I know, but God and the economy
Big brother watches over me
And the state protects and feeds me
And my conscience never leaves me
And I'm loyal to the unions who protect me at all levels
I'm a working John, yes, I'm a working Joe
And I'm a working John, yes, I'm a working Joe

Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
With freezing rains melting and no trains running
And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

The taxi that takes me will be moving so quickly
My suitcases is simply too full for the closing
Of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry
Two best-selling paper backs chosen at random
No sign of sales-persons to whom I might hand them
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

And down at the airport are probably waiting
A few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas
Connections broken and Special Branch watching
Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing
Black Sunday falls one day too soon

Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy
Down to the gate with the old mood upon me
Get out and chase the small immortality
Born in the minute of my next returning
Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning
Home coming one day too soon, too soon

Back at the house there's a grey sky a-tumbling
Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling
Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving
Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
One day too soon

Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
With freezing rains melting and no trains running
And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching 
Black Sunday fell one day too soon

They said protect and you'll survive, but our postman didn't call
Eight pounds of over-pressure wave seemed to glue him to the wall
They said protect and you'll survive
E.M.P. took out the radio and our milk-man didn't call
Flash blinded by the pretty lights, didn't see his bottles fall
Or feel the warm black rain arrive

Big friendly cloud builds in the West and our dust-men haven't called
They left the dual carriageway at a hundred miles an hour
A tail wind chasing them away

And in deep shelters lurk below, sub-regional control
Who sympathize but cannot help to mend your body or your soul
Self-appointed guardians of the race with egg upon their face
When steady sirens sing all-clear they pop up, find nobody here

And so I watch two new suns spin, our paper man doesn't call
Burnt shadow printed on the road, now there's nothing there at all
They said protect and you'll survive

Six o'clock in the morning, wake up by the bed
There sits a new Japanese toy - and I like it
See the name on the wrapping, can't read yet but I know
It's made for me, lucky boy - and I want it
Lights that flash, wheels that go round, digital display
Fresh silicon chips to enjoy - and I need them
Where's the batteries, where's the batteries

Sitting silent and empty, wish I could breathe life
In my friend who's terribly still - and I like him
Just like me, perhaps he's hungry, six volts make him smile
And twelve volts would probably kill - how I like him

Daddy, where's the batteries, I can't find my batteries
There's no batteries, where are they
I can't find my batteries, where are they

Where's the batteries, where's the batteries

Seven o'clock in the morning, they find me by the bed
With my friend the Japanese toy - I am with him
Mummy, Daddy - can't see you, hear you
Batteries not included in this little boy
Where's the batteries, where's the batteries

See black, see yellow with little notebooks drawn
See grey stripes bowling down the street
Silver streaks and T-shirts so precisely torn
Strange foreign chaps in white bed sheets
Uniforms, uniforms

See golden halo'd men of high renown
Prance to the politicians' beat
Well tailored in unswerving elegance
With shoes by Gucci on their feet
Uniforms, uniforms

How do you know who the hell you are
Wake up each day under a different star
Dressed to the nines, meet yourself going home
Like a clone, smartly dressed in your pressed uniform
Uniform, uniform

White battle dress on green pitch, proud eleven
Beneath the swelling box so neat
The teeming millions of the future fly
The spinning cricket ball to cheat
They're all uniform, uniform

Met a man just the other day, said his name was Jim
Boy, won't you take a look
Got a car for you, it's a real steal, cleaned it right down
New brakes, clutch and here's the hook
Yes, it's a four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive
Four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive

Cash to Jim, I took it home through the deep mud
Plugged happy as a boy in sand
Fitted wide tires, spotlight, a winch as well
And some brush bars up front to complete the plan
Now it's really a four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive
Four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive
Four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive
Four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive

Take you down to the edge of town where the road stops
We start to hold the ground
Well, I'm blessed, got traction in a special way
Hold the roll bar, slide back, feel me pull it round
Let me show you my four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive
Four wheel drive, low ratio, four wheel drive

INSTRUMENTAL

We saw the heavens break and all the world go down to sleep
And rocks on mossy banks drip acid rain from craggy steeps
Saw fiery angels kiss the dawn
Wish you goodbye till further on
Will you still be there further on

And troubled dynasties, like legions lost, have blown away
Hounds hard upon their heels, call to their quarry, wait and play
Before the last faint light has gone
Wish you goodbye till further on
Will you still be there further on

And the angry waves grow high, cut icy teeth on northern shores
Brave fires that flicker, cough, give way to winds through broken doors
And with the last line almost drawn
Wish you goodbye till further on
Will you still be here further on