The Chequered Flag - Jethro Tull

The the disc brakes drag, the chequered flag sweeps across the oil-slick track.

the young man’s home;

dry as a bone.

his helmet off, he waves: the crowd waves back.

one lap victory roll.

gladiat

Ul.

the taker of the day in winning has to say, isn’t it grand to be playing to the

stand, dead or alive.

the sunlight streaks through the curtain cracks, touches the old man where he

sleeps.

th

Se brings up a cup of tea --- two biscuits and the morning paper mystery.

the hard road’s end, the white god’s-send is nearer everyday, in dying the old

man says, isn’t it grand to be playing to

Stand, dead or alive.

the still-born child can’t feel the rain as the chequered flag falls once again.

the deaf composer completes his final score.

he’ll never hear the sweet encore.

the chequer

Ag, the bull’s red rag, the lemming-hearted hordes running ever faster to the

shore singing, isn’t it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive.