Mountains of Can

Well there's a mountain of can
Than we all must climb
And down in the valley
Is the man
Down in the river of rust
That river just rolls like a steamer
It takes all of the can from the dreamer
And it rusts it in him
Like an old dirty tin
Oh better believe he's a dreamer

Now back up the mountain of can he climbs
Never noticing the recycling van
Parked on the incline
He takes from his pocket
A stop watch full of time
But the can runs out too
Like a can -do in his prime
Now down to the valley of rust he might slip
If it wasn't for the clown
Who's watching his trips
And he lends him a hand
(Not the first time) but the second
And this stops him rolling all the way down
What a kind clown, the can clown kind