I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try (2x)
Imagine if you were Heir Proctor
Alias and nobleman
Son of son of sky, and of scion
Part of his rich inheritance
Parceled and generous divorce
Sentence forthwith being
Certain blocks of land
And living quarters deemed
By all gentlemen
And wives thereof
To be grossly humane
And frankly, quite un-dirty
Heir Proctor
In his enviable good taste
Tries quick escape gambit
Via local periodicals
But no takers land an enviable station
In the conduit between two selves
A veritable no-man's-land
Array of the flophouse cardboard materials
And carbon-monoxide wallpaper
All his brig-deck Torino boys ask
Is irrelevant...
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try (2x)
(Sung in background under next verse...)
[No one's gonna save me]
[No one's gonna make me rearrange]
[No one's gonna save me]
[No one's gonna make me rearrange]
[Bap-ba-dap-bap-bap-ba-da-da]
[Bap-ba-dap-bap-bap-ba-da-da]
[Bap-ba-dap-bap-bap-ba-da-da]
[Bap-ba-dap-bap-bap-ba-da-da]
Unable to bear the scandal, Ray, philanthropist
Rents low-down scab house in conduit
Heir Proctor offers said land for a song,
But no one wants to sing
In an attempt to retain social privileges
Yet mask it as goodwill
He says to the conduit members,
"Take this rotten old tree and make it bear fruit."
Cheers erupted throughout the thin settlement;
An Italian male was heard to say,
"Between here and there
Is better than either here or there!"
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try (3x)