Last Great Traffic Jam

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead

They've let him lie for a very long time, 'til the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand 'til midsummer's day 'til he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man
They've hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by the way, serving him most barbarously
They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he's bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him around and around a field 'til they came onto a pond
And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
And the miller he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle or pots without a little barleycorn

You walk and talk and move around in circles
Your friends telling you, you are doing fine
You can't see that snowball as it hurtles
Through the shattered membranes of your mind

If I could talk to you for just one minute
Then you would know what it is I am getting at
But there again your head's got nothing in it
By the way, you left without your hat

I'm walking in the wind
Looking at the sky
Hanging on a breeze
Wondering why, why?

Your old man's headed for the final pay-off
The joker you've got is fading too
All the sharks that come around for the rip-off
Are gonna tear the flesh right off you

The plastic princess hangs her head in wonder
At the silver glittered boys, trying, trying to compete
And all at once the room begins to thunder
And all that's left is the stain on the sheet

I'm walking in the wind
Looking at the sky
Hanging on a breeze
Wondering, why?

The prostitute is standing on the corner
Suffering so much pain to stay alive
She's so real that life itself bows down before her
She couldn't make that nine to five

The president is crying, crying in the White House
The prime minister's really got the blues
All the heads of state are busy playing cat and mouse
'Cause you can see none of them have ever paid their dues

I'm walking in the wind
Looking at the sky
Hanging on a breeze
And I'm wondering, why, why, why, why?
God knows why, why, why?

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead

They've let him lie for a very long time, 'til the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand 'til midsummer's day 'til he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man
They've hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by the way, serving him most barbarously
They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he's bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him around and around a field 'til they came onto a pond
And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
And the miller he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle or pots without a little barleycorn

Dear Mister Fantasy play us a tune
Something to make us all happy
Do anything take us out of this gloom
Sing a song, play guitar
Make it snappy
You are the one who can make us all laugh
But doing that you break out in tears
Please don't be sad if it was a straight mind you had
We wouldn't have known you all these years