"Spiral"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue
Lined with poppy girls
I didn't stop, stop to say hello
Curious vendors, waving bric-a-brac
Looked me over, thought it best
Best that I should go
Don't wake me, I'm falling
Slow spiral into morning, who's out there?
Can't hear you
Ears covered, early warning
Alarm bells ringing
Time to make my peace with the dreary day
I waited tables, I was tipped in roubles
Wine to water, was the best that I could do
Wild office parties split the silence
Leaves and fishes
At an empty table laid for two
Down the spiral, spinning madly
Gathering momentum
On a Disneyesque adventure ride
I fly in colours from richer palettes
Famous artists running scared
As worlds collide

"Dot Com"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints
Of Autumn from the hills
So punch my name and in case you wonder
I'll be yours, yours, dot com
Executive accomodation
Bland but nonetheless appealing
Waiter's discretely at your beck and call
Place the tall sun-down potion
Lightly by your velvet elbow
While you compose a message on the wall
So punch my name and in case you wonder
I'll be yours, yours, dot com
With your handmade leather valise
Packed and ready
Ready waiting, showered
And dressed down lightly for the heat
Give a clue, leave a kind word
Hint as to a destination
A domain where our cyber-souls might meet
So punch my name and in case you wonder
I'll be yours, yours, dot com

"AWOL"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn
Nose pressed against the triple glaze
Floor to ceiling, wall to wall
Silent traffic streams both ways
Along the fussy freeway drivers
Dream of Sunday barbecues
Of a sudden, seems I can barely face myself
No face to lose
Call the bosses, call supervisors
Won't be in today to work for you
E-mail that girl who's working nights
She can dress down for this wind and rain
Leave her new Korean compact
Let some cabbie take the strain
Take a shower, take big expresso
Take to the hills, and take a view
Little black dress stretching
Over hard crystal peaks, soft valleys too
Call the bosses, call supervisors
Unfit today to work for you
No wet excuses, absent without leave
I'll be her dayshift driver, exotic engineer
Stormy-eyed on the edge of night
(December, Eastern time, late afternoon)
Atlantic City tight behind
Trump Casino calls pontoon
Gristle-burger, frazzled fries
End this romantic interlude
Tomorrow morning's sweet awakening
Could hardly prove to be as rude
Make the journey, make ammends
Work some hasty overtime in lieu
No wet excuses, Absent With-Out Leave
I was her dayshift driver, exotic engineer

Nothing @ All
music by Andrew Giddings

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

"Wicked Windows"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

I review my past through wicked windows
Framed in silver
And hung in toughened glass
Upon my face, around and over
Now and then, memories of men
Who loved me, no stolen kiss
Could match their march on hot coals for me
I have walked a line both faint and narrow
Hard to follow
Caught up in circumstance
Harsh truth for history to mellow
Through my eyes
Loyalties and obligation magnified
Obedience, the better fellow
Better not remember me
Don't miss my passing
Firece winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep
We never quite vanish, no wet soft surrender
Still waiting, bad blood running
In close families
I laughed like any child
Although you might find that strange
And Christmas was my favourite holiday
Christmas was my favourite holiday
I am not alone in seeing the world
Through wicked windows
While others hide likewise
Behind its vulnerable squinting
It's in the stare, it's in the silent scrutinizing
Strip you bare, I offer you no more disguising
Better not remember me
Don't miss my passing
Firece winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep
We never quite vanish, no wet soft surrender
Still waiting, bad blood running
In new families

"Hunt By Numbers"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hey little buddies, soft and silky night walkers
Dangerous species
Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers
On my bed, no butter melting in your jaws
Bonding monster, lethal weapon wearing claws
Let's go hunt by numbers
Tabby, spotted, black as coal
Serval Margay, Caracal, Moggie
In the moonlight listens
Whiskered sensory miracle
Felis, befriend us, Egyptian Mau
Freya's familiar, long in the future
Closed desciples, the castle guard
Now, let's go hunt by numbers

"Hot Mango Flush"
music by Martin Barre; lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hot mango flush, ladies with ice cream hair
Gyroscopic pink neon beams
Everybody's happy about something
The crowd moves like a flock of starlings
They switch direction as one
Jive on the jukebox, Jack and Joker
Split the night air with whoop and hollar
Faint aroma, wood smoke, old fish
Diesel harbour, roadside mongrel
Painted man with buttons barely holding
Bursting belly bulging
Doe-eyed ragamuffin mumbling
Scolded for some vague infraction
Stole a penny candy-coloured sweetheart kiss
Down at the market
Down at the market
All the world seems to simmer
Hot mango flush

"El Niņo"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

As one, wet merchants turn their eyes
Towards the west, trade winds falter
As if in dire consequence
Freezing fish to fry
Fail to materialise, Christ-child
Blood-warm current
Sends to touch the skies, El Niņo
Bathing in uncertainty
Another age seems to wing you
From T.V. screens in weather rage
Savage retribution makes
For a headline feast
Planet-warming, opinion-forming
Headless beast, El Niņo
Cold thrust tongue
Extends its dark and watery touch
Forces gather, martial stand against the rush
Wily child in mischief here to make his play
Leaves toys for little sister
On another day, El Niņo

"Black Mamba"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Hand in the snake pit, black mamba chase
Head through the lion's cage, head on a plate
Two feet on the hot coals
Last dance at the ball
Blindfold on the tightrope, whenever you call
Be my slippery slider
Black Mamba crawl over me
Dark thoughts of the sleepless, hung out to dry
Slip through the bedclothes, unblinking eye
Long tongue flickering, fixed stare grip
Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip
Be my slippery slider
Black Mamba crawl over me
A tropical whisper, a sibilant kiss
Soft strike teasing, dangerous bliss

"Mango Surprise" (Instrumental)
music by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

"Bends Like A Willow"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

She's catching the wind
The gentlest of breezes
It's a sensitive passage she's sailing
Through stormy straits
Navigates my unfathomable failings
She rises before me, reading me clearly
Empty nest pressed in the pillow
She can lift, she can sway
And bend like a willow
I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap
Gift-wrapped in my soft centre
Summer sun leaves me as one
Who can only taste winter
She's good, a God-send
She can bend like a willow
With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly
I'm cool under enemy fire
If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire
When I'm caustic and cold
She might dare to be bold
Ease me round to her warm way of thinking
Fill me up from the cup of love
That she's drinking
And I find, given time
I can bend like a willow
She bends like a willow

"Far Alaska"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Placing people in their dreamscape
With fantasies of foreign fields
Lofty spires all well appointed
In off-season special deals
To far Alaska, down to Rio in the Carnival
Norwegian fjords
In the ever-light of Solstice call
A part of me might travel with you
In a freebie bucket seat for one
Business First, at last, forever
Hopeless thoughts of flying fun
Now get me out of here
I cry in air rage psycho-doom
I'm only dream-arranging
From the safety of my room
Pick a place or stick a pin
In any corner of the sphere
Post me cards and tell me nicely
Say you wish that I was here
To far Alaska, down to Rio in the Carnival
Norwegian fjords
In the ever-light of Solstice call

"The Dog-Ear Years"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

Rusted and ropy, dog-eared old copy
Vintage and classic or just plain Jurassic
All words to describe me
Relaxed in the knowledge that happily present
Are all things to sustain me
Nurture and claim me, roll back the mileage
You have settled beside me
To the far and wide of me
A matter of choosing, of finding
And losing on the rough ride with me
Take whisky with water
Kick stones down the gutter
Think back to long days
With stale breath recycled in my face
Rattling through airways, plastic on cold trays
Watching through windows
Deep landscapes below await
Another time and space
There must come some time
To walk through the night line
Hands tight, head high
These are the dog-ear years
Don't turn back, don't linger
For God's sake keep moving
Primitive shadows sidle beside

"A Gift of Roses"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

J-Tull Dot Com (1999)

I count the hours, you can count the days
Together, we count the minutes
In this Passion Play
Walk dusty miles and I ride that train
On a first class ticket
Just to be with you again
Picking up tired feet
Back from a far horizon
Cleaned up and brushed down
Dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden
I bring you a gift of roses
To stand in sweet spring water
And press them to your heart
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone
Never inviting trouble
Never casting the stone
But this badge of honour is tarnished tin
Light your guiding beacon
To bring this fisher in