"Thick As A Brick"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson and Gerald Bostock

Thick As A Brick (1972); 'M.U.': The Best of Jethro Tull (1975); Repeat: The Best of Jethro Tull Vol. II (1977); Live: Bursting Out (1978); Original Masters (1985);
20 Years of Jethro Tull: The Essential Tull (1988); The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993); 25 Years of Jethro Tull: Beacons Bottom Tapes (1993);
Live At The BBC (1996); Thick As A Brick: 25th Anniversary Edition (1997); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); The Secret Language of Birds (2000); The Very Best of Jethro Tull (2001);
The Essential Jethro Tull (2003); Live: Bursting Out Remastered (2004); The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007); Live Christmas At St. Bride's 2008 (2009); All The Best (2012);
Thick As A Brick: 40th Anniversary Collector's Edition (2012); Thick As A Brick: Live In Iceland (2014); Minstrel In The Gallery: 40th Anniversary La Grande Edition (2015);
Songs From The Wood: The 40th Anniversary Country Set Edition (2017); Heavy Horses: 40th Anniversary New Shoes Edition (2018); 50 For 50 (2018);
Stormwatch: 40th Anniversary Force 10 Edition (2019); Live: Bursting Out: The Inflated Edition (2024); Live In Berlin 1985 (2025)
Bootlegs: Munster Live 1973 (1973); Rainbow Theatre London 8 May 1978 (1978); Watchers On The Storm (1980); Capitol Theatre 10/28/84 (1984);
One Flute Over The Cuckoo's Nest (1990); Jack In The Green: Live In Germany 1970-1993 (1993); National Concert Hall Dublin (2011); Songs From The Tower (2023); London Fields (2023); Live In Berlin 1985 (2023);
Live From Baloise Session Basel 11-15-2008 (2025)
Tributes: A Classic Case (1985)

Really don't mind if you sit this one out, my words but a whisper, your deafness a shout
I may make you feel but I can't make you think, your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink
So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away, in the tidal destruction, the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play, as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and your suntan does rapidly peel
And your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick
And the love that I feel is so far away, I'm a bad dream that I just had today
And you shake your head and say it's a shame
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth
Spin me down the long ages, let them sing the song

See there, a son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight
There are black-heads on his shoulders and he pees himself in the night
We'll make a man of him, put him to trade, teach him to play Monopoly and to sing in the rain

The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other
As the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed
The home fire burning, the kettle almost boiling
But the master of the house is far away
The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding
In the sharp and frosty morning of the day
And the poet lifts his pen, while the soldier sheaths his sword
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside

The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea
The builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need
The young men of the household have all gone into service
And are not to be expected for a year
The innocent young master, thoughts moving ever faster
Has formed the plan to change the man, he seems
And the poet sheaths his pen, while the soldier lifts his sword
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run

What do you do when the old man's gone? Do you want to be him?
And your real self sings the song, do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam and the whirlpool turns you 'way off-beam

I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed
So come on all you criminals, I've got to put you straight
Just like I did with my old man, twenty years too late

Your bread and water's going cold, your hair is too short and neat
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me

You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone
You meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done
And you laugh most ruthlessly, as you tell us what not to be
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?

I see you shuffle in the courtroom with your rings upon your fingers
And your downy little sidies and your silver-buckle shoes
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol who lets you bend the rules

So, come on ye childhood heroes, won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super crooks and show us all the way
Well, make your will and testament, won't you join your local government?
We'll have Superman for president, let Robin save the day
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself, just how big you are
And take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars and you wonder who to call on

So, where the hell was Biggles, when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall, writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual

See there, a man born and we pronounce him fit for peace
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease
We'll take the child from him, put it to the test
Teach it to be a wise man, how to fool the rest

We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional God is an overwhelming responsibility

Oh Fluffy Duck! Oh Fluffy Duck!

We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons

Cats are on the upgrade. Upgrade? Hipgrave, oh, Mac

In the clear white circles of morning wonder, I take my place with the lord of the hills
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows) sporting canvas frills
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen
Saying, how's your granny and good old Ernie, he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win

The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn), lie cradled in the seagull's call
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall

The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun and signal for the crack of dawn, light the sun
Do you believe in the day? Do you believe in the day?
The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun, soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night and fully pregnant with the day wise men endorse the poet's sight
Do you believe in the day? Do you believe in the day?

Let me tell you the tales of your life of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression, the wisdom instilled, the desire to kill or be killed
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements are empty, the gutters run red, while the fool toasts his god in the sky

So come all ye young men who are building castles, kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus, mark the precise nature of your fear

Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the fathers are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise and from the pan under your bed
Let me make you a present of song as the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and the nursery rhyme winds along

So come all ye young men who are building castles kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus, mark the precise nature of your fear
See, the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you and the hour of judgement draweth near
Would you be the fool, stood in his suit of armour or the wiser man who rushes clear

So, come on ye childhood heroes, won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super crooks and show us all the way
Well, make your will and testament, won't you join your local government?
We'll have Superman for president, let Robin save the day

So, where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall, writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual

So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick