Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horse
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And a fine coalminer for the NCB that was
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A fallen angel and Jesus on the cross
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A skating ballerina you should have seen her do the skater's waltz
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Some people have got to paint and draw
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Harry had to work in clay and stone
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Like the waves coming to the shore
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It was in his blood and in his bones
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Ignored by all the trendy boys in London and in Leeds
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He might as well have been making toys or strings of beads
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He could not be in the gallery
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And then you get an artist says he doesn't want to paint at all
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He takes an empty canvas and sticks it on the wall
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The birds of a feather all the phonies and all of the fakes
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While the dealers they get together
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And they decide who gets the breaks
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And who's going to be in the gallery
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No lies he wouldn't compromise
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No junk no bits of string
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And all the lies we subsidise
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That just don't mean a thing
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I've got to say he passed away in obscurity
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And now all the vultures are coming down from the tree
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So he's going to be in the gallery
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In The Gallery
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| Dire Straits |
