"How you doin', Bert?" "Well, not so good, Charlie,
My back's gone out and I got my finger cut gnarly.
The job's the same, and so's the boss.
He's still a big ass, and my wallet got lost.
My wife's sick in bed, she says she'll never get well.
And all these kids today have gone to hell.
And all that government paperwork caught up with me––
Had to hire a beancounter for an outrageous fee.
And I don't know if the chicken or the egg is to blame
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."
"Cheer up," Charlie said, "things could be worse."
"Well, yeah, I know, but did I tell ya that
My landlord's a cop? My neighbor's insane?
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."
Chorus:
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low
"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You've got the wrong attitude.
Sometimes life's a big game, and the paths, you can choose.
Things may go wrong, but you've gotta stand tall."
"Well, I know," Bert said, "But well, that ain't all.
My hair's fallin' out. The roof leaks when it rains.
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."
Chorus repeat
"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You're a real loser.
So I'll see you next week––if you live 'til then."
As Bert walked out to the sidewalk, ten floors up
Two men lost control of a hoist at just the right time
And a big Steinway grand flattened Bert like a dime.
And as a crowd gathered 'round and asked, what was his name?
And could it be the chicken, or the egg to blame?
Well, the only thing heard was that he couldn't complain.
So if you're a loser in life, and your gun's outta ammo,
Just remember the story of Bert and the piano.
'Cause if you can't string the bow––and you're clean outta rosin1
Someone may have planned for a music lesson.
Keep your eyes to the sky; it could be a brand name
And remember, all things considered, you really can't complain.
