Авторы музыки: Ian Anderson
In and out of the front door, ran twelve back-door angels. Their hair was a golden-brown - they didn't see me wink my eye. 'Tis said they put we men to sleep with just a whisper, And touch the heads of dying dogs - and make them linger. They carry their candles high - and they light the dark hours. And sweep all the country clean with pressed and scented wild-flowers. [Instrumental] They grow all their roses red, and paint our skies blue - Drop one penny in every second bowl - make half the beggars lose. Why do the faithful have such a will to believe in something? And call it the name they choose, having chosen nothing. [Instrumental] Think I'll sit down and invent some fool - some Grand Court Jester. And next time the die is cast, he'll throw a six or two. In and out of the back-door, ran one front-door angel, Her hair was a golden-brown - She smiled, and I think she winked her eye.