The way you threw yourself at the waiter Could tell by the look on his face He thought you were mad You went off riding on the equator I tell you that waiter sure was glad You sold your story to the newspaper And went round the world in a caravan You made lots of people very unhappy And turned yourself into a wanted man Then you said that the world was something to behold Not to be bought or to be sold It was something that you could hold You've got something special it's a secret You're in transit a nomad You left that girl in Panama City I said it was the best woman you ever had You called me up from where you were living Said you had some more stories you wanted to tell About how you always spent your life In some kind of prison I said those true stories are the hardest to sell