The Boys Who Cry - Frankie And His Fingers

There once was a man and he couldn't cry He hadn't cried for years and for years Napalmed babies, the movie love story For instance could not produce tears As a child he had cried as all children will Then at some point his tear ducts all ran dry Grew to be a man, it all hit the fan Things got bad, but he couldn't cry His dog got ran over, his wife up and left him After that he got sacked from his job Lost his arm in the war, was left at by a whore Ah, but sill not a sniffle or sob Well, his novel was refused, and his movie was panned His big Broadway show was a flop He got sent off to jail, you guessed it, no bail Oh, but still not a dribble or drop In jail he was beaten, bullied and buggered And made to make license plates Water and bread was all he was fed Not once did a tear stain his face Doctors were called in, scientists, too Theologians were last and practically least They all agreed sure enough; this is no cream puff Oh, but in fact an insensitive beast He was taken from jail and placed in a place For the insensitive and the insane He made lot of friends and he played lot of chess And he cried every time it would rain Once it rained forty days and it rained forty nights And he cried, and he cried, and he cried, and he cried On the forty-first day he passed away He just dehydrated and died He went up to heaven, located his dog After that, he rejoined his arm Below all the critics, they took it all back Cancer robbed the whore of her charm His ex-wife died of stretch marks His ex-employer went broke The theologians were finally found out Right down to the ground The jail house burned down And the earth suffered perpetual drought