People sink your boat   When you cut a tragic figure   They drink their lemonade   And throw you a line      Boil your problem down    To yes or no, what's the matter?   They bomb your promenade   And this makes it shine      So you must play the comic   If they want one   And describe their moment   When they're in one      People pass you by   Passing up the chance to know you   They're irregular   In the usual way      You should crack a smile   Once in a while, it makes you pretty   It makes you want to give them    A piece of your mind      But they can't be people   Not if I'm one   If I have to be like them   I'd rather be no one      Couldn't make the scene   Not with all the people looking   All these connoisseurs   On guard all the time      Rather spend the day   Blank as hell by the window   Looking out of my   Stained glass eyes      La la la la la la la la la . . .