Conduit for Sale!

I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try
I'm tryin' and I'll try

Imagine if you were Herr Barockter
Alias and nobleman
Son of son of sky, and of scion
Part of his rich inheritance
Parceled and generous divorce
Sentence forthwith, being
Certain blocks of land
And living quarters deemed
By all gentlemen
And wives thereof
To be grossly humane
And frankly, quite un-dirty

Herr Barockter
In his enviable good taste
Tries quick escape gambit
Via local periodicals
But no takers, land an enviable station
In the conduit between two selves
A veritable no-man's land
Array of the flophouse, cardboard materials
And carbon-monoxide wallpaper
All his brig-deck Torino boys ask
Is irrelevant

I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try
I'm tryin' and I'll try

Unable to bear the scandal, Ray, philanthropist
Rents low-down scab house in conduit
Herr Barockter offers said land for a song
But no one wants to sing
In an attempt to retain social privileges
Yet mask it as goodwill,
He says to the conduit members:
"Take this rotten old tree and make it bear fruit"
Cheers erupted throughout the thin settlement
An Italian male was heard to say
"Between here and there
Is better than either here or there!"

I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin'
I'm tryin' and I'll try
I'm tryin' and I'll try
I'm tryin' and I'll try