"Lap of Luxury"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

The money won't last forever, rent man called twice today
I hope some day you'll find me in the lap of luxury
Searched for a new apartment, but they don't grow on trees
Just want to lay my head in the lap of luxury
Stepped out on a new horizon, felt a new spring in my feet
Found a job, it could set me up, dangling in the lap of luxury
And the gaffer is a man of substance, drives a jag and takes high tea
Lives beyond the industrial wasteland, laughing in the lap of luxury
I need money, now, to soothe my heart
Buy me a Datsun or Toyota, get the tax man to agree
All expenses I can muster from the lap of luxury



"Under Wraps"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); 20 Years of Jethro Tull: Flawed Gems and The Other Sides of Tull (1988); The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993);
Live At Hammersmith '84 (1990); A Little Light Music (1992); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); Under Wraps Remastered (2005); The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007); All The Best (2012)
Bootlegs: Capitol Theatre 10/28/84 (1984); London Fields (2023)

Keep it quiet (Go slow), circulate, need to know
Stamp the date upon your file, masquerade, but well worth while
Wrapped in the warmth of you, wrapped up in your smile
Wrapped in the folds of your attention
Wear an air (keep mum) of casual indifference
Careful how you go about your usual business
Wrapped in daydreams of you, wrapped up by your eyes
Wrapped in the folds of your attention
Under wraps, I've got you under wraps
Tell you when (not yet), soon the great unveiling
Bless my boots, upon my soul, secrecy, it is my failing
Wrapped in your Summer night, wrapped in your Autumn leaves
Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping



"European Legacy"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005); 50 For 50 (2018)
Bootlegs: London Fields (2023)

She smiles at me from beyond the eastern sea-shore
Flashing jewelled eyes, she hoists her skirts so high
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar, it's really up to her
I'll write every cheque she brings to me, I shoot on sight, it's my European legacy
Round the castle walls about the Highlands and the Islands
The faint reminders stand, visitors who took a hand
A thousand years ago, or so, stranded high and dry
By tides, washed up a new identity, the channel's wide, but it's their European legacy
I strain my eyes against the southern light advancing
On whiter cliffs I'm high, the sea birds roll and tumble as they fly
I hear distant mainland music echo in my island ears
My feet begin to move instinctively to the warmer beat of my European legacy



"Later, That Same Evening"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Live At Hammersmith '84 (1990); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)
Bootlegs: Capitol Theatre 10/28/84 (1984); London Fields (2023)

Later, that same evening, she ran, I think she ran alone
Later, she had early warning from a hidden phone
Checked with the embassy, she might have been a million miles away
Should I circulate her likeness at all airports without delay?
It was later, later that same evening
Earlier, we had had a drink or four in some Kensington hotel
Hard, it was hard to keep my mind on what she had to sell
And with all business done we took a cab, should it be her place or mine?
Good security prevailed and I was home just after nine
It was later, later that same evening
Now I want you back, yes, they want you back
We want you back, my country wants you back
Later, in the wee small hours there was heavy traffic on the radio
Scare at a channel port, small craft warnings to keep to shore
Lobstermen thought they saw a submarine half submerged suspiciously
Though I arrived too late, I'm sure she blew a kiss to me as the sub sailed out to sea



"Saboteur"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); 36 Greatest Hits (1998); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

In and out of shady places, walking on cold corners of the maze
Following the trace you leave unwittingly
I wanna be no Saboteur, oh, no, me no Saboteur
Painted ducks across your landscape, happy in your domesticity (it don't come free)
Misfortune, like a Sparrow Hawk hangs over you, wanna be no Saboteur, no, no, me no Saboteur
Deepest regrets I humbly offer you as I cut into your life
With clean precision, all is simplified, pass the hat and pass the knife
By now you must be worried wondering who is me and what lies behind my art
I'm only removing broken sea-shells from the beach, oh, no, me no Saboteur
There's at least one of me inside your ranks, in your factory or school
I anticipate a cleansing opportunity to take the horns by the bull
History forever writing, pages to be cut or painted grey, grey
Or celebrated like Jesus in his temple rage, as he chased the money-men away
I wanna be no Saboteur, be no, be no Saboteur



"Radio Free Moscow"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

Tune into messages from the Eastern avenue
Lock on to the ether, squeeze the signal through and through
War of the air-waves, making scare-waves
I'm getting pictures from my radio (Free Moscow), Moscow Radio
Voice of America, symbol of the free, mine of disinformation pleading sympathy
Down in the cold-war games, forever naming names
I'm getting pictures from my radio (Free Moscow), keep getting pictures from my radio, (Free Moscow)
I put my headphones on, reach out on the beam
Shutter up the windows, I'm getting up some steam
Somebody's at the door catching me in the act they've been keeping the score
I'm getting pictures from my radio (Free Moscow), yes, I'm getting pictures from my radio (Free Moscow)



"Astronomy"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

The middle lane has trapped my car in red-light claustrophobia
I slip the shackles, cut the rope, stand naked with a telescope
As the cat walks alone, under a big sky
Against the dark so thin and white, gonna be a big sky night
Astronomy, Astronomy
Miss Galileo, come with me and view the new Astronomy
Black hole dressing on salad plate, quasar at the kissing gate
Now the cat, he walks alone under a big sky
Umbrella dome pin-pricked in lights, gonna be a big sky night
My spectacles, my white lab coat, my coffee, thermos and my notes
I pat my pockets, I got the keys to the secrets of the observatory
And closing the door, I feel a new dawn
As the darker slides align you to yours and me to mine
Astronomy, Astronomy
And now you stand, assisting me, I can touch what I can see, see, see
I look in wonder, I feel no shame, see the consequences of the game
Expand the universe, head for the Big Bang
Reach for my switch and shout, gonna turn the big sky out
There's got to be Astronomy, Astronomy



"Tundra"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

Short Arctic desert day and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra
Look around every which way, but I can't see just where the footprints go
Is it a casual disappearance? Plucked from the middle atmosphere, like straw wind-blown
No speck on the horizon, no simple message scrawled upon the snow
Unearthly visitation, someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra
Hungry buzzard flier circling round and round rattling death's tambourine
Have to run it down the cold wire, late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found
Should I spread out searching? But I'm a little thin upon the ground
So I raise my lips to coax the last drop of brandy from the bottle
Rest my feet and contemplate the mystery that's haunting this Siberian space
Show-shoes they bind me down, I'm just one more parasite of the surface layer
I begin to get the feeling I've been on this stage before and I'm the only player
One more Arctic desert day, another set of shoes out in the tundra snow
I make my fade to white-out and you can't see me where my footprints go



"Nobody's Car"
music by Ian Anderson, Martin Barre and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); 25 Years of Jethro Tull: Live Across The World and Through The Years (1993); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)
Bootlegs: Capitol Theatre 10/28/84 (1984); London Fields (2023)

Black Volga following me, nobody's car, Mr. No-one at the wheel of nobody's car
Wet pavements, thin apartments, quiet dissent from darkened doorways
I want out alive, speak up for me if you can, so, careful how you drive in tourist city
Slap in front of my hotel it's Nobody's car. Is that my limousine? No, it's Nobody's car
Are you on routine assignment? Plastic shades on black-browed eye-hole
I read this book before, I even saw the film, how did the ending go? (Intourist city), black out
It's a weird scenario I've seen a thousand times before, but only on my video
Feel my steps quick in the headlights of Nobody's car, down cobbled alley with no exit from Nobody's car
Doors slam, two figures silhouette, somewhere before, I feel we've met
Can't tell you any more, I agreed to go along, with all they asked of me intourist city, I drive Nobody's car



"Heat"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

When the rats are running and the boys are gunning for heads on a tin plate
You can hear the footfall softly in the back yard
And the black jack is called face up on the last card
You'd better call your witness in your dirty business, trop tard sera le cri
Better run while you can better set the tall sail
Better make deep cover before the boys have you nailed
There's just one chance to get away, I'll catch up with you another day
I'll close my eyes and count to ten and come right after you again
Grab your credit cards, cash in on your resources
Take your passport from the drawer, don't stop to change the horses, get out of the heat
Now can you feel the pressure? Have you got the measure of being a wanted man?
Cold drink in your hand, hot sweat on your brow, and there's no understanding going to help you now
Grab your credit cards, cash in on your resources
Take your passport from the drawer, don't stop to change the horses, get out of the heat
Notify all parties of an earlier vacation
No use trying to board the train after it's left the station, get out of the heat



"Paparazzi"
music by Ian Anderson, Martin Barre and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005); 50 For 50 (2018)

Paparazzi, can't make the man, Paparazzi, can't break the man
Next to the transit lounge see the Paparazzi tears
No-one came in today from Boston or Tangiers
And in departures only faceless trippers trip
Loaded with duty free held in white knuckle grip
Snap it up, flash away, steal a camel for a day
Break the story in heavy type, the news is running late tonight
Be-decked with Nikon necklaces hear the Paparazzi cries
Under their noses walk the famous in disguise
Conspicuously huddled there, but no-one stops to look
They've got their crayons out to colour in the book
Snap it up, flash away, steal a camel for a day
Break the story in heavy type, Paparazzi won't be home tonight
Paparazzi, write it down, Paparazzi, turn it around
Paparazzi, take it, fake it, break it, 'cos it's a story
Now someone's cut the lines, communication's down
All photo film is fogged, celebrities surround
And jab their fingers at me, they kiss but I can't tell
Even poor Paparazzi must have privacy as well
Snap it up, flash away, steal a camel for a day
Break the story in heavy type, the news is running late tonight
Snap it up, flash away, steal a camel for a day
Break the story in heavy type, Paparazzi won't be home tonight



"Apogee"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)
Bootlegs: London Fields (2023)

Sailing round the true-blue sphere, is it too late to bale out of here
Well, there has to be some better way to turn back the night, spin on to yesterday
The old man and his crew, after all these years, it's Apogee
Pilot training and remorse, spirit friends fly too, at Apogee
Apogee, solar bright, Apogee, through the night, Apogee, overground, don't think I'll be coming down
Screened for a stable mate, with nerves of ice we flew, at Apogee
No creativity allowed, to pass through stainless veins of steel, at Apogee
Apogee, put the kettle on, tight-lipped, soldier on
High point, communicate, don't forget to urinate
So glad they put this window in, how to explain, how to begin?
See! Tennyson and Wordsworth, there waiting for me in the cold, thin air
Beware a host of unearthly daffodils, drifting golden, turned up loud
Tell the boys back home, I'm gonna get some
The Wrong Stuff's loose in here, I'm climbing up the walls, at Apogee
So hoist the skull and bones, death and glory's free, at Apogee
A stranger wind, a solar breeze, I'm walking out upon the starry seas
See pyramids, see standing stones, pink cotton undies and blue telephones
Goodbye, cruel world that was my home, there's a cleaner space out there to roam
Put my feet up on the moons of Mars, sit back, relax and count the stars



"Automotive Engineering"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

Automotive science and engineering, Automotive science and engineering
In the hands of science, the complete appliance, we're moved to motor
Do you fly a Spitfire? Do you slide on a tea-tray?
Or walk on a short trip (Sundays) or drive come what may (enjoy)
Automotive science and engineering, Automotive science and engineering
We're moved to motor, we're moved to motor
Automotive Engineering, Automotive Engineering
When big was better and fast was chic, the oil was cheaper, now we're up the creek
But the Japs are coming and everyone's turbo'd, and carbon fibre is the way to go, go
Automotive science and engineering, Automotive science and engineering
We're moved to motor, we're moved to motor
Automotive Engineering, Automotive Engineering
Down at the robot factory things are humming, new radical suspension, no humans testing
(Wind it up, wind it up) Automotive Engineering
Take a trip in your Freudian slip, Doctor Ferdinand (Ferdie) has you in his grip
Automotive science and engineering, Automotive science and engineering
We're moved to motor, we're moved to motor
Automotive science and engineering, Automotive science and engineering
We're moved to motor, we're moved to motor

"General Crossing"
music by Ian Anderson and Peter Vettese; lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984); Under Wraps Remastered (2005)

It's an old profession of subtle artillery, rough wheels meshing, button out, button in
The tall General will mine a few bridges tonight, stroking soft machinery
Fanfare at dawn courting green steel, lined up for World War One (Two, Three, Four)
It's an old profession of subtle artillery, rough wheels meshing, on a landscape with no trees
The tall General points to the distance, disconnects his power supply
Writes a stiff note to his nearest and dearest, he takes the battle plan and contemplates his fly
It's an old profession of subtle artillery, rough wheels meshing, button out, button in
The tall General flies by the seat of history, the tall General is crossing
The tall General he thinks inevitability, the tall General is definitely crossing
With spit and with polish, time for desperate measures
The pain in the forehead from holding up to the pressures
Of life on the rim of the convenient alliance, out on the rim, let me out on the rim
The tall General will walk across the compound with his briefcase and I.D.
Later they'll post him seemingly missing, he's gone to be a Generalski
The tall General flies by the seat of history, the tall General is crossing
The tall General he thinks inevitability, the tall General is definitely crossing
The tall General, oh, the tall General is definitely crossing