by Ian Anderson (from Jethro Tull), 1971
v/r 1:
People, what have you done?
Locked Him in His golden cage!
Made Him bend to your religion
And resurrected from the grave...
He is the God of nothing
If that's all that you can see.
You are the God of everything,
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
And don't call on him to save
you from your social graces,
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England,
in chains of history,
requests your earthly presence
at the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who,
with his plastic crucifix, (He's got him fixed!)
Confuses me as to who and where and why,
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin,
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying 'til next Thursday,
to all the Gods that you can count.
While Anderson has critiqued his own work on the Aqualung album as generally sophomoric and "with a single brush stroke", many still agree on it's legendary status. I am one. Some things are more readily apparent using the vitality of youth to see clearly. This is one. Yes, his lyrics in this case are more than a little bit wandering in subject matter... but it is easily forgiven when one hears with such weary distain that he delivers them.
"He's not the kind (of god) that you have to wind up on Sundays..." Indeed.
+A
v/r 1:
People, what have you done?
Locked Him in His golden cage!
Made Him bend to your religion
And resurrected from the grave...
He is the God of nothing
If that's all that you can see.
You are the God of everything,
He's inside you and me.
[Here, Ian Anderson is the clearest in his Deistic position. He states, "God exists, but you reduce him to only what you can see -- being just as yourself." Check out the song, "Wind Up" from the same release.]v/r 2:
So lean upon Him gently
And don't call on him to save
you from your social graces,
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England,
in chains of history,
requests your earthly presence
at the vicarage for tea.
[Here, Anderson paints two forms of human pettiness -- the overly-religious leaning upon God for saving them from their petty concerns, and the church itself being riddled within by their own petty customs.]v/r 3:
And the graven image you-know-who,
with his plastic crucifix, (He's got him fixed!)
Confuses me as to who and where and why,
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin,
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying 'til next Thursday,
to all the Gods that you can count.
[Now, he furthers his claims on the corruption of the clergy, displayed by a "plastic crucifix" (lack of strength or true mettle?) and the suspicion for how sexually they can get off, foced to be celibate. He lastly criticizes the followers once again (or maybe the clergy?) by mocking their whining confessions, never ending... how can we really take them seriously? and claiming that they are really meaningless in God's eyes.]---
While Anderson has critiqued his own work on the Aqualung album as generally sophomoric and "with a single brush stroke", many still agree on it's legendary status. I am one. Some things are more readily apparent using the vitality of youth to see clearly. This is one. Yes, his lyrics in this case are more than a little bit wandering in subject matter... but it is easily forgiven when one hears with such weary distain that he delivers them.
"He's not the kind (of god) that you have to wind up on Sundays..." Indeed.
+A
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