Critique Oblique
Jethro Tull
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Critic of the black and white it's your first night. The Passion Play gets in the way - spoils your insight. Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid, Why the old dogs howl with sadness. The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on the memory of last summer's trip to Europe. Did you buy a passport from the queen? And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulder of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision. The examining body examined her body.
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