The Chequered Flag (Dead Or Alive) — текст песни (Jethro Tull)

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. Gladiator soul.

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.

The nurse 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 the 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 chequered flag, 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.