Ian Anderson - My God/Cross Eyed Mary - Live At Madison Square Garden lyrics

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Ian Anderson - My God/Cross Eyed Mary - Live At Madison Square Garden lyrics

People, what have you done? Locked Him in His golden cage Golden cage Made Him bend to your religion, Him resurrected from the grave From the grave He is the god of nothing, if that's all that you can see You are the god of everything--He's inside you and me So lean upon Him gently, and don't call on Him to save You from your social graces, and the sins you used to wave You used to wave The bloody Church of England, in chains of history Requests your earthly presence at the vicarage for tea And the graven image, you-know-who, with his plastic crucifix--he's got Him fixed-- Confuses me as to who and where and why, as to how he gets his kicks He gets his kicks Confessing to the endless sin, the endless whining sounds You'll be praying till next Thursday to all the gods that you can count Mary ... Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief If he had a rich man in his hand? And who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth If he could take it from the money man? Cross-Eyed Mary goes jumping in again She signs no contract, but she always plays the game She dines in Hampstead village on expense-accounted gruel And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school Laughing in the playground, gets no kicks from little boys Would rather make it with a letching grey Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play Cross-Eyed Mary finds it hard to get along She's a poor man's rich girl, and she'll do it for a song She's a rich-man's stealer, but her favour's good and strong She's the Robin Hood of Highgate, helps the poor man get along Laughing in the playground, gets no kicks from little boys Would rather make it with a letching grey Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play Cross-Eyed Mary goes jumping in again She signs no contract, but she always plays the game She dines in Hampstead village on expense-accounted gruel And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school Cross-Eyed Mary Oh Mary Oh Cross-Eyed Mary