"Lap of Luxury"
music and lyrics by Ian Anderson

Under Wraps (1984), Under Wraps (Remaster) (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), Under Wraps (1984), 20 Years of Jethro Tull: II. Flawed Gems (Dusted Down) and The Other Sides Of Tull (1988), Live At Hammersmith '84 (1990), A Little Light Music (1992), The Best of Jethro Tull: The Anniversary Collection (1993), 36 Greatest Hits (1998), Under Wraps (Remaster) (2005), The Best of Acoustic Jethro Tull (2007)

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 (Remaster) (2005)

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 (Remaster) (2005)

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 (Remaster) (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,
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 (Remaster) (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 (Remaster) (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
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
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 (Remaster) (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), 25th Anniversary Boxed Set: Potpourri - Live Across The World And Through The Years (1993), Under Wraps (Remaster) (2005)

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 (Remaster) (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 (Remaster) (2005)

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 (Remaster) (2005)

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 (Remaster) (2005)

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
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
Down at the robot factory things are humming
New radical suspension, no humans testing
(Wind it up, wind it up)
Take a trip in your Freudian slip
Doctor Ferdinand (Ferdie) has you in his grip

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

Under Wraps (1984), Under Wraps (Remaster) (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
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