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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 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
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
And you shake your head
And say that it's a shame
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth
Spin me down the long ages, let them sing the song
See there, a son is born, and we pronounce him fit to fight
There are blackheads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night
We'll make a man of him, put him to trade
Teach him to play Monopoly, not to sing in the rain
The poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea
The doer and the thinker, no allowance for the other
As the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed
The home fire burning, the kettle almost boiling
But the master of the house is far away
The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding
In the sharp and frosty morning of the day
And the poet lifts his pen, while the soldier sheaths his sword
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide
To wash them all aside
The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea
The builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need
The young men of the household have all gone into service
And are not to be expected for a year
The innocent young master, thoughts moving ever faster
Has formed the plan to change the man he seems
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son
Who puts him to the run
What do you do when the old man's gone?
Do you want to be him?
And your real self sings the song
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam
And the whirlpool turns you way off beam
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways
My father was a man of power, whom everyone obeyed
So come on all you criminals ! I've got to put you straight
Just like I did with my old man, twenty years too late
Your bread and water's going cold, your hair is short and neat
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no one judges me
You curl your toes in fun, as you smile at everyone
You meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done
And you laugh most ruthlessly, as you tell us what not to be
But how are we supposed to see where we should run ?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom, with your rings upon your fingers
And your downy little sidies and your silver-buckle shoes
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example
Of the comic-paper idol, who lets you bend the rules
So, come on you childhood heroes, won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super crooks, and show us all the way?
Well, make your will and testament, won't you join your local government?
We'll have Superman for president, let Robin save the day
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
And you take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars
(And you wonder who to call on ...)
So, where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where are all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall, writing up their memoirs
For a paperback edition of the boy scout manual
See there, a man is born, and we pronounce him fit for peace
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease
We'll take the child from him, put it to the test
Teach it to be a wise man, how to fool the rest
(We will be gearing toward the average rather than the exceptional)
(God's an overwhelming responsibility)
(We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons)
(It says here that cats are on the upgrade, upgrade?)
In the clear white circles of morning wonder
I take my place with the lord of the hills
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discolored
In neat little rows, sporting canvas frills
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention
Whilst queueing for sarnies at the office canteen
Singing, "How's your grannie ?", and good old Ernie
He coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win
The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn
Lie cradled in the seagull's call
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun
And signal for the crack of dawn, light the sun
Do you believe in the day ?
The dawn creation of the kings has begun
Soft Venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night
And fully pregnant with the day, wise men endorse the poet's sight
Do you believe in the day?
Let me tell you the tales of your life
Of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression the wisdom instilled
The desire to kill or be killed
Let me sing of the losers who lie
In the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements are empty, the gutters run red
While the fool toasts his god in the sky
So, come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
Let me help you to pick up your dead
As the sins of the fathers are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise
And from the pan under your bed
Let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
And the nursery rhyme winds along
So, come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
See, the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgement draweth near
Would you be the fool stood in the suit of armour
Of the wiser man who rushes clear?
So, come on you childhood heroes, won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super-crooks, and show us all the way?
Well, make your will and testament, won't you join your local government?
We'll have Superman for president, let Robin save the day
So, where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where are all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall, writing up their memoirs
For a paperback edition of the boy scout manual
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
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