The Ballad of Harry Noryb

This is hell playing madman on the stage
But a different kind of idiot wrote this play
And it isn’t even relevant today
And my being splits, one half walks out and sits
In the audience and grins
All the time getting drunk as he orates
And he’s swallowed in a sea of sated eyes
He has a most peculiar way to say goodbye
And he hates, he lies, he’s dreaming alibis
As homeward he glides
And there’s love in those loins that dance on the floor
And happiness drips from the tap on the bar
Reminds me of a place in God knows where
Where too many changes occurred by far
And maybe for him and me both it’s fake
These surrogate brothers won’t drink too late
And it reminds me of how the immigrant runs
My Romans, my countrymen didn’t show up
He’s a sailor, he’s been betrayed
From over the sea that never was…
He’s more than just an immigrant that’s been betrayed
From over the sea that never was…
He’s more than just an immigrant
He’s a sailor in an airplane…