What-ifs, Maybes and Might-have-beens - Ian Anderson

We all must wonder, now and then,

If things had turned out — well — just plain different.

Chance path taken, page unturned or brief encounter, blossomed, splintered.

Might I have been the man of courage, brave upon life’s battlefield,

Captain Commerce, high-flown banker, hedonistic, down-at-heel?

A Puritan of moral fibre, voice raised in praise magnificent?

Or rested in assured repose, knowing my lot in quiet content.

What-ifs, Maybes and Might-have-beens fly, soft petals on a breeze.

What-ifs, Maybes and Might-have-beens.

Why-nots, Perhaps and Wait-and-sees.

Suppose bold woman, quite unsuited, brave in adventure, sojourns wicked.

Velvet touch and lips soft-centred, tossing hair, teeth bared in laughing.

Imagine idyll Summers never-ending, Winter nights beside fire roaring.

Touched by madness, filled with fondness, kissed by love, love without name.

What-ifs, Maybes and Might-have-beens fly, soft petals on a breeze.

What-ifs, Maybes and Might-have-beens.

Why-nots, Perhaps and Wait-and-sees.

So, you ride yourselves over the fields.

And you make all your animal deals.

And your wise men don’t know how it feels

To be thick as a brick… two