Ian Anderson - Baker Street Muse lyrics

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel Shady gentleman. Fly-bu*ton. Feel In the underpa**, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands Symphony match-seller, breath out of time - You can call me on another line Indian restaurants that curry my brain Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station Stand. With cold print hands Symphony word-player, I'll be your headline If you catch me another time Didn't make her - with my Baker Street Ruse Couldn't shake her - with my Baker Street Bruise Like to take her - I'm just a Baker Street Muse Ale-spew, puddle-brew - boys, throw it up clean Coke and Bacardi colours them green From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess with great finesse Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet down in the Baker Street underground What the Hell? I didn't make her - with my Baker Street Ruse Couldn't shake her - with my Baker Street Bruise Like to take her - I'm just a Baker Street Muse Walking down the gutter thinking, "How the Hell am I today?" Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same "Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me," said the pig-me to the who*e, desperate for more in his a**ault upon the mountain Little man, his youth a fountain. Overdrafted and still counting Vernacular, verbose; an attempt at getting close to where he came from In the doorway of the stars, between Blandford Street and Mars; Proposition, deal. Flying bu*ton feel. Testicle testing Wallet ever-bulging. Dressed to the left, divulging the wrinkles of his Years Wedding-bell induced fears Shedding bell-end tears in the pocket of her resistance International a**istance flowing generous and full to his never-ready tool Pulls his eyes over her wool. And he shudders as he comes - And my rudder slowly turns me into the Marylebone Road And here slip I - dragging one foot in the gutter - In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios And there sits she - no bed, no bread nor bu*ter - On a double yellow line where she can park anytime Old Lady Grey; Crash-barrier Waltzer - Some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty Oh, Mr. Policeman - blue shirt ballet master Feet in sticking plaster - Move the old lady on Strange pas-de-deux - His Romeo to her Juliet Her sleeping draught his poisoned regret No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness Oh officer, oh let me send her to a cheap hotel - I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you bloody will! No do-good over k**. We must teach them to be still more independent I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone I have no wish for wishing-wells or wishing bones I have no house in the country I have no motor-car And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line joker in a public Bar And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm a one-band-man And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand There was a little boy stood on a burning log, rubbing his hands with glee He said, "Oh Mother England, did you light my smile; or did you light This fire under me?" One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery And paint you a picture of the queen And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree - It's just the nonsense that it seems So I drift down through the Baker Street valley, in my steep-sided Un-reality And when all's said and all's done - couldn't wish for a better one It's a real-life ripe dead-certainty - that I'm just a Baker Street Muse Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same old way I tried to catch my eye but I looked the other way Indian restaurants that curry my brain - Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station Stand. Circumcised with cold print hands Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel Shady gentleman. Fly-bu*ton. Feel In the underpa**, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands Symphony match-seller, breath out of time - You can call me on another line Didn't make her - with my Baker Street Ruse Couldn't shake her - with my Baker Street Bruise Like to take her - I'm just a Baker Street Muse I'm just a Baker Street Muse. Just a Baker Street Muse Just a Baker Street Muse