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Track 2 from their fifth album “Thick as a Brick” released in 1972 copyright Chrysalis Records and recorded at Morgan Studios in London. Ian Anderson wasn’t happy that critics had labeled the band’s previous album, the hugely successful “Aqualung,” a concept album when there was no intent to write it around any concept. Inspired by the irreverent humour of Monty Python, he decided his response would be to write the ultimate concept album, but as a parody that poked fun at the progressive rock genre and the grandiose style of the albums being recorded by other bands. It was billed as the musical adaptation of an epic poem written by a fictional eight year-old genius named Gerald Bostock. It initially received mixed reviews and most didn’t get the joke, but the musicianship was generally praised. It’s now considered their second masterpiece and one of the most important early progressive rock albums. It reached the Top Ten in nine countries including No. 1 in Denmark, Australia, Canada and the U.S. and achieved Gold status the same year. Written by Ian Anderson and produced by Ian Anderson & Terry Ellis. Featuring: Ian Anderson - Lead vocals, acoustic guitar, flute, violin, trumpet, sax & accordion Martin Barre – Lead & rhythm guitars, lute & flute John Evan – Piano, Hammond B-3 organ & harpsichord Jeffrey Hammond – Bass & spoken word Barriemore Barlow – Drums, percussion & tympani Special Guest: Dee Palmer – Conductor & orchestral arrangements See there, a man is 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 two hundred and eighteen babes wearing nylons" "It says here that cats are on the upgrade, upgrade?" "Hipgrave, it's outrageously rare, just go back to the home, bye" 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 Whilst queueing for sarnies (at the office canteen) Saying: "How's your Granny and good old Ernie?" Coughed up a tenner (on a premium bond win) (Oh, 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, behind the gun And signal for the crack of dawn, light the sun, light the sun Do you believe in the day? Do you believe in the day? The dawn creation of the Kings has begun, has begun Soft Venus, lonely maiden, brings the ageless one, the ageless one Do you believe in the day? Do you believe in the day? The fading hero has returned to the night, 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 Well, 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 to pick up your dead As the sins of the fathers are fed With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise From the pan under your bed Well, let me make you a present of song As the wise man breaks wind and is gone While the fool with the hourglass 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 are all the sportsmen who always pull you through? They're all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs For a paperback 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