I was walking up 6th avenue
When Balloon Man came right up to me,
He was round and fat and spherical,
With the biggest grin I’d ever seen.
He bounced up towards me,
But before we could be introduced,
He blew up very suddenly,
I guess his name was probably «Bruce».
And I laughed,
Like I always do.
And I cried,
like I cried for you.
And Balloon Man blew up in my hand.
He spattered me with tomatoes,
Chick-peas and some strips of skin.
So I made ride on 44th,
And I washed my hands when I got in.
And it rained,
like a slow divorce.
And I wish,
I could ride a horse.
And Balloon Man blew up in my hand.
I was walking up 6th avenue,
When Balloon Man blew up in my face.
There were those on Bryant parks,
So I didn’t feel out of place.
There must have been a plague of them,
On the TV when I came home late.
They were guzzling marshmallows,
And jumping of the Empire State.
And I laughed,
Like I always do.
And I cried,
Like I cried for you.
And Balloon Man blew up in my hand.
Balloon Man blew up in my hand.