In the gallery, no no, in the gallery
Harry had to work in clay and stone
Harry made a bareback rider
A fallen Angel, Jesus on the cross
He takes an empty canvas and sticks it on the wall
The birds of a feather all the phonies and all of the fakes
And now all the vultures, they're coming down from the tree
Like the waves coming to the shore it was in his blood and in his bones
Some people have got to paint and draw
He was ignored by all the trendy boys in London yes and in Leeds
While the dealers they get together
And they decide who gets the breaks
And then you get an artist says he doesn't want to paint at all
And who's going to be, who's going to be
In the gallery, in the gallery
No lies he wouldn't compromise, no junk, no string
I've got to say he passed away in obscurity
In the ga-gal-gallery
A skating ballerina, you should have seen her do the skater's waltz
He might as well have been making toys or strings of beads
And all the lies we subsidize that just don't mean a thing, thing
He couldn't be, no he couldn't be
He's going to be, yea he's going to be
Gal, in the gallery
