A small cigar can change the world I know, I've done it frequently at parties Where I've won all the guests' attention With my generosity and suave gentlemanly
The actors milling helplessly The script is blowing out to sea But what the hell We didn't even pass an audition The lines you'll have to improvise The
Dirty white caravans down narrow roads sailing Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake With hot, red-faced drivers, horns' flattened fifths wailing Putting
All right and honorable gentlemen And lady, too Will kindly try to restrain themselves In derring do As verbal hard graffiti flies And echoes wall to
Tear it down in double quick time To get the 'A' truck shifted 'bout midnight The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners Still spin with their pitching
Critic of the black and white It's your first night The passion play gets in the way Spoils your insight Tell me how the baby's made How the lady's laid
Your mother she protected you And softened every blow And brought you up to fear the worst To be careful as you go And the learned educators With drip
Hard liner, she brings ice when I bring fire She's a hard liner, tightrope cross Niagara She'd cut the wire, never feel a thing Walked the sidewalk of
Got a grand house out in the country marble pillars holding the door Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before Got a Roller out in the garage
The tiger flashes sharpened teeth Bowler-hatted, summer briefs Beneath his pinstriped skin To kill demands a business sense Economy moves non-residence
``hello. this is `law of the bungle part ii'. by the way, I'm martin Barre; but sometimes I'm an owl, and my feathers are really smooth, And when I feel
The master playwright Urges you to play right, play wrong Life is long and every night's the first night The wardrobe mistress Urges you to dress left
Last light's out, they're all abed And something's in my room Creeping down towards me on the wall Daddy said, "It's just some flickering Headlight through
One day he'll walk from out of this place You'll see a quiet determination on his face He'll toe no lines, suffer no fools But he'll raise three cheers
The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand And makes his home inside a rusty watering can Occasionally, going out to look for bread and jam He
Did you learn your lines today? Well, there is no rehearsal The tickets have all been sold For tomorrow's matinee There's a telegram from the writer
I looked out of my window, saw a stencil black No step, no step There were nervous mothers with children crying in the back No step, no step Someone
Come running, go for overkill If you don't come now, I'll be over the hill, alright? Tell me, alright Got a sell-by date, soon be out of stock Pop me
