the mystical o’brien
I’m not even sure how to spell his name
surrounds me like a siren
one more phantom not quite feeling his pain
(but wishing to just the same)
the new york public library’s losing its mind
the books all speechless the windows blind
a million ideas now no one can find
walked out on one foot with charley o’bryan
the mystical o’brian
I don’t know how to spell his name
but you can’t blame me for trying
as he muscles his one-footed way
along the courageous path of the lion
(on a lease they won’t let him resign)
the new york public library’s not doing so fine
I’m dancing across rooftops with Charlie o’bryan
to a million operas now no one can find
from Jacques Cousteau to when poets were blind
the magical o’brien
only the gifted can come from behind
(what do you think made those poets go blind)
only the best of us get to be o’bryans
The rest of us’ll just have to go on trying
(I’m making this up but if I’m lying, I’m dying)