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 JETHRO TULL - From A Dead Beat To An Old Greaser Lyrics

From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you.
You won't remember the long nights
coffee bars black tights and white thighs
in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world made
of dummies [with no mummies or daddies to reject them].
When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture ---
sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
Jack Kerouac, Ren'e Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to
go on living without them.

Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name,
f15o41515e19141314?oo21"
though you're a dead beat with tired feet
two ends that don't meet.
To a dead beat from an old greaser.

Think you must have me all wrong.
I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend,
If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again.