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Part Of The Machine Lyrics
Everybody's jumping on the circus train.
Oh, some jump high, some jump off again.
And the razzmatazz is rolling, women folk unveiled.
All truths to light, all crosses nailed.
Aiming high where the eagle circles,
where he keeps his tail feathers clean,
and wonders "Am I still a free bird?
Or just a part of the machine.''
They hitch their covered wagons and they roll out west.
Politics in the pockets of their Sunday best.
Shaking hands, kissing babies, for all that they're worth.
Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on earth.
Still, that old bald eagle circles -
it's not the first time that he's seen
his reflection in the eyes of innocence.
He's become just another part of the machine,
part of the machine.
I wish I had an eagle like you - to look up to.
He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky,
up above the whole machine.
Smart guys aren't running - they're home and dry,
up in the mountains where the eagle flies.
They wouldn't take that job offered on a plate.
They got to fly with the eagle, and he won't wait.
Looking down on the smoke and the factories till the truth creeps up unseen.
They see themselves in the faces of their children and realize
they too are part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
I wish I had an eagle like you - to wake up to.
He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky, hey,
let's be part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Wanna be part of your machine.
Wanna be part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Oh, some jump high, some jump off again.
And the razzmatazz is rolling, women folk unveiled.
All truths to light, all crosses nailed.
Aiming high where the eagle circles,
where he keeps his tail feathers clean,
and wonders "Am I still a free bird?
Or just a part of the machine.''
Politics in the pockets of their Sunday best.
Shaking hands, kissing babies, for all that they're worth.
Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on earth.
Still, that old bald eagle circles -
it's not the first time that he's seen
his reflection in the eyes of innocence.
He's become just another part of the machine,
part of the machine.
He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky,
up above the whole machine.
up in the mountains where the eagle flies.
They wouldn't take that job offered on a plate.
They got to fly with the eagle, and he won't wait.
Looking down on the smoke and the factories till the truth creeps up unseen.
They see themselves in the faces of their children and realize
they too are part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky, hey,
let's be part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Part of the machine.
Wanna be part of your machine.
Wanna be part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
Part of your machine.
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Ian Anderson forgot how to write lyrics here.
I don't think he's forgotten anything. It's clearly a very bitter outlook on life in general. Maybe a little more bluntly put than most JT songs, but it definitely gets the point across. The flute/acoustic combination in this song always makes me feel like I'm up in the mountains.