Baker St Muse Jethro Tull

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[Baker St. Muse]

(Baker St. Muse, take one.)
(Shit, shit, shit. Take two.)

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel
In the underpass, 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