"Spiral"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue, lined with poppy girls, I didn't stop to say, to say hello
Curious vendors, waving bric-a-brac, looked me over, thought it best, best that I should go
Don't wake me, I'm falling, slow spiral into morning
I waited tables, I was tipped in roubles, wine to water, was the best that I, that I could do
Wild office parties split the silence, loaves of fishes at an empty table laid for two
Don't wake me, I'm falling, slow spiral into morning
Who's out there? Can't hear you, ears covered, early warning
Alarm bells ringing, time to make my peace with the dreary day...spiral
Down the spiral, spinning madly, gathering momentum on a Disneyesque adventure ride
I fly in colours from richer palettes, famous artists running scared as worlds collide
Don't wake me, I'm falling, slow spiral into morning
Who's out there? Can't hear you, ears covered, early warning
Alarm bells ringing, time to make my peace with the dreary day...spiral



"Dot Com"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999); Living With The Past (2002); Live At Montreux 2003 (2007); 50 For 50 (2018)

It's a wide world out there, so much wider than imagined, I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating, just beneath the raw silk sheen that reflects the tints of Autumn from the hills
So punch my name and in case you wonder, I'll be yours, yours, dot com
Executive accomodation, bland but nonetheless appealing, waiter's discretely at your beck and call
Place the tall sun-down potion, lightly by your velvet elbow, while you compose a message on the wall
So punch my name and in case you wonder, I'll be yours, yours, dot com
So punch my name and in case you wonder, I'll be yours, yours, dot com
With your handmade leather valise, packed and ready, ready waiting, showered and dressed down lightly for the heat
Give a clue, leave a kind word, hint as to a destination, a domain where our cyber-souls might meet
So punch my name and in case you wonder, I'll be yours, yours, dot com
So punch my name and in case you wonder, I'll be yours, yours, dot com



"AWOL"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn, nose pressed against the triple glaze
Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, silent traffic streams both ways
Along the fussy freeway drivers, dream of Sunday barbecues
Of a sudden, seems I can barely face myself, no face to lose
Call the bosses, call supervisors, won't be in today to work for you
E-mail that girl who's working nights, she can dress down for this wind and rain
Leave her new Korean compact, let some cabbie take the strain
Take a shower, take big expresso, take to the hills, and take a view
Little black dress stretching over hard crystal peaks, soft valleys too
Call the bosses, call the nurses, unfit today to work for you
No wet excuses, absent without leave, I'll be her dayshift driver, exotic engineer
Stormy-eyed on the edge of night (December, Eastern time, late afternoon)
Atlantic City tight behind, Trump Casino calls pontoon
Gristle-burger, frazzled fries, end this romantic interlude
Tomorrow morning's sweet awakening could hardly prove to be as rude
Make the journey, make ammends, work some hasty overtime in lieu
No wet excuses, absent without leave, I was her dayshift driver, exotic engineer



"Nothing @ All" (Instrumental)
music by Andrew Giddings

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)



"Wicked Windows"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver and hung in toughened glass
Upon my face, around and over, now and then, memories of men who loved me
No stolen kiss could match their march on hot coals for me
I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow
Caught up in circumstance, harsh truth for history to mellow
Through my eyes, loyalties and obligation magnified, obedience, the better fellow
Better not remember me, don't miss my passing, firece winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep
We never quite vanish, no wet soft surrender, still waiting, bad blood running in close families
I laughed like any child, although you might find that strange, and Christmas was my favourite holiday
Christmas was my favourite holiday
I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows, while others hide likewise, behind its vulnerable squinting
It's in the stare, it's in the silent scrutinizing, strip you bare, I offer you no more disguising
Better not remember me, don't miss my passing, firece winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep
We never quite vanish, no wet soft surrender, still waiting, bad blood running in new families



"Hunt By Numbers"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hey little buddies, soft and silky night walkers
Dangerous species, tiptoe menace long grass stalkers
On my bed, no butter melting in your jaws
Bonding monster, lethal weapon wearing claws
Let's go out to hunt by numbers
Tabby, spotted, black as coal, Serval Margay, Caracal
Moggie, in the moonlight listens, whiskered sensory miracle
Felis, befriend us, Egyptian Mau, Freya's familiar
Long in the future, cloned desciples, the castle guard
Now, let's go out and hunt by numbers
Hey little buddies, soft and silky night walkers
Dangerous species, tiptoe menace long grass stalkers
On my bed, no butter melting in your jaws
Bonding monster, lethal weapon wearing claws
Let's go out to hunt by numbers




"Hot Mango Flush"
music by Martin Barre; lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hot mango flush
Ladies with ice cream hair, gyroscopic pink neon beams, everybody's happy about something
The crowd moves like a flock of starlings, they switch direction as one
Jive on the jukebox, Jack and Joker, split the night air with whoop and hollar
Faint aroma, wood smoke, old fish, Diesel harbour, roadside mongrel
Painted man with buttons barely holding, bursting belly bulging
Hot mango flush
Doe-eyed ragamuffin mumbling, scolded for some vague infraction
Stole a penny candy-coloured sweetheart kiss, down at the market
Down at the market all the world seems to simmer
Hot mango flush
Ladies with ice cream hair, gyroscopic pink neon beams, everybody's happy about something
The crowd moves like a flock of starlings, they switch direction as one
Jive on the jukebox, Jack and Joker, split the night air with whoop and hollar
Stole a penny candy-coloured sweetheart kiss, down at the market
Down at the market all the world seems to simmer
Hot mango flush



"El Niño"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

As one, wet merchants turn their eyes eowards the west
Trade winds falter as if in dire consequence
Freezing fish to fry, fail to materialise
Christ-child, blood-warm current, sends to touch the skies, El Niño
Bathing in uncertainty, another age
Seems to wing you from T.V. screens in weather rage
Savage retribution makes for a headline feast
Planet-warming, opinion-forming, headless beast, El Niño
Cold thrust tongue extends its dark and watery touch
Forces gather, martial stand against the rush
Wily child in mischief here to make his play
Leaves toys for little sister on another day, another day, El Niño



"Black Mamba"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hand in the snake pit, Black Mamba chase
Head through the lion's cage, head on a plate
Two feet on the hot coals, last dance at the ball
Blindfold on the tightrope, whenever you call
Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me
Dark thoughts of the sleepless, hung out to dry
Slip through the bedclothes, unblinking eye
Long tongue flickering, fixed stare grip
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip
Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me
A tropical whisper, a sibilant kiss
Soft strike teasing, dangerous bliss
Hand in the snake pit, Black Mamba chase
Head through the lion's cage, head on a plate
Two feet on the hot coals, last dance at the ball
Blindfold on the tightrope, whenever you call
Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me




"Mango Surprise"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hot mango flush



"Bends Like A Willow"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999); All The Best (2012)

She's catching the wind, the gentlest of breezes, it's a sensitive passage she's sailing
Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings
She rises before me, reading me clearly, empty nest left pressed in the pillow
She can lift, she can sway and bend like a willow, she bends like a willow
I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap, gift-wrapped in my soft centre
Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter
She's a good, good God-send, she can bend like a willow
She bends like a willow, ooo, she bends like a willow
With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly, I'm cool under enemy fire
If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire
When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold
Ease me round to her warm way of thinking
Fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking
And I find, given time, I can bend like a willow
She bends like a willow



"Far Alaska"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Placing people in their dreamscape with fantasies of foreign fields
Lofty spires all well appointed in off-season special deals
To far Alaska, down to Rio in the Carnival
Norwegian fjords in the ever-light of Solstice call
A part of me might travel with you in a freebie bucket seat for one
Business First, at last, forever, hopeless thoughts of flying fun
Now get me out of here, I cry in air rage psycho-doom
I'm only dream-arranging from the safety of my room
Pick a place or stick a pin in any corner of the sphere
Post me cards and tell me nicely, say you wish that I was here
To far Alaska, down to Rio in the Carnival
Norwegian fjords in the ever-light of Solstice call



"The Dog-Ear Years"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Rusted and ropy, dog-eared old copy, vintage and classic or just plain Jurassic, all words to describe me
Relaxed in the knowledge that happily present are all things to sustain me, nurture and claim me, roll back the mileage
You have settled beside me, to the far and wide of me, a matter of choosing, of finding and losing on the rough ride with me
Take whisky with water, kick stones down the gutter, think back to long days with stale breath recycled in my face
Rattling through airways, plastic on cold trays, watching through windows, deep landscapes below another time and space
There must come some time to walk through the night line, hands tight, head high, these are the dog-ear years
Don't turn back, don't linger, for God's sake keep moving, primitive shadows sidle beside
Rusted and ropy, dog-eared old copy, vintage and classic or just plain Jurassic, all words to describe me
Relaxed in the knowledge that happily present are all things to sustain me, nurture and claim me, roll back the mileage
Take whisky with water, kick stones down the gutter, think back to long days with stale breath recycled in my face
Rattling through airways, plastic on cold trays, watching through windows, deep landscapes below another time and space
The dog-ear years, years, the dog-ear years



"A Gift of Roses"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

I count the hours, you can count the days together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play
Walk dusty miles and I ride that train on a first class ticket just to be with you again
Picking up tired feet, back from a far horizon, cleaned up and brushed down, dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden, I bring you a gift of roses to stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone, never inviting trouble, never casting the stone
But this badge of honour is tarnished tin, light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in
Picking up tired feet, back from a far horizon, cleaned up and brushed down, dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden, I bring you a gift of roses to stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart
I count the hours, you can count the days together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play
Walk dusty miles and I ride that train on a first class ticket just to be with you again
Picking up tired feet, back from a far horizon, cleaned up and brushed down, dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden, I bring you a gift of roses to stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart
Picking up tired feet, back from a far horizon, cleaned up and brushed down, dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden, I bring you a gift of roses to stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart