Silicon Investor (SI) -- The First Internet Community

STOCKTALK

We've detected that you're using an ad content blocking browser plug-in or feature. Ads provide a critical source of revenue to the continued operation of Silicon Investor. We ask that you disable ad blocking while on Silicon Investor in the best interests of our community. If you are not using an ad blocker but are still receiving this message, make sure your browser's tracking protection is set to the 'standard' level.

Strategies & Market Trends : VOLTAIRE'S PORCH-MODERATED -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: RR who wrote (59113)	8/30/2003 1:11:09 AM
From: Sully-	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 65232

And you probably didn't realize you were singing about the plight of the homeless as you played air guitar....... Aqualung Sitting on a park bench -- eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot running down his nose -- greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes. Drying in the cold sun -- Watching as the frilly panties run. Feeling like a dead duck -- spitting out pieces of his broken luck. Hey Aqualung! Sun streaking cold -- an old man wandering lonely. Taking time the only way he knows. Leg hurting bad, as he bends to pick a dog-end -- he goes down to the bog and warms his feet. Feeling alone -- the army's up the rode salvation à la mode and a cup of tea. Aqualung my friend -- don't start away uneasy you poor old sod, you see, it's only me. Do you still remember December's foggy freeze -- when the ice that clings on to your beard is screaming agony. And you snatch your rattling last breaths with deep-sea-diver sounds, and the flowers bloom like madness in the spring. Sun streaking cold -- an old man wandering lonely. Taking time the only way he knows. Leg hurting bad, as he bends to pick a dog-end -- he goes down to the bog and warms his feet. Feeling alone -- the army's up the rode salvation à la mode and a cup of tea. Aqualung my friend -- don't start away uneasy you poor old sod, you see, it's only me. De de de de, de de de de de de de Aqualung my friend -- don't start away uneasy you poor old sod, you see, it's only me. Sitting on a park bench -- eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot running down his nose -- greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes. Drying in the cold sun -- Watching as the frilly panties run. Feeling like a dead duck -- spitting out pieces of his broken luck. Oh Aqualung! Oh oh Aqualung! Ian Anderson - circa 1971