Harrison Adams

There he sits
Guarding the fish market
Splitting hairs and atoms
Eying the salt target
Please to preach
Harrison Adams
The son of a jack poker
Panting like a ram worker
Arise
Give into the umpire
Feel his air
Relax
That's where we stay
He says: You aren't happy with me
And I know it
And you are the world to me
But it's all gone now
It's all gone now
Look at the back of his pants
Where he must have sat in something
Bring it to boil
Your gripes and your follies
Being appointed chief
Of your own dream team
That's what they call'em
Dead on arrival
Begone
Take your opinions
From the removal office
I ask
For your forgiveness