| Lyrics |
(
Brewster-
Neeson-
Brewster)
He was selling postcards from a paper standa whiskey bottle in his withered handhe put a finger on a photo from an old magazineand saw himself in the shadow of his dream
They found him with his head inside a tin-pot crowntold him his feet stank and took him downtowncalled him agitator, spy and thiefshut him up in solitary third degreetake a long line, reel him in
He tried to appeal to the king of mighthe said "I'm just excercising my sacred right"the king he said "
You ain't got no rightsyou're a madman, a traitor, get outta my sight"take along line, reel him in
They put him aboard a well wound whirlwindpulled out his teeth and rold him to grinhe gave them a smile, pulled out a bottle of wineand said "I never existed, you've been wasting your time"take a long line, reel him in----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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