Drunk in Palestine

I'm drunk in the land of milk and honey,
I march down the street to my own beat,
because here the days are always so sunny.

Yet it's funny, I'm the only one here
with a smile on my face, the whole place
seems so grim and it sure seems sincere.

But in all fairness, it probably has to do
with the fact of a little item I lack
which is a pair of pants, and must be taboo.

I just haven't the time to pay such heed,
I'm having so much fun parading in the sun
as free as can be just drinking my mead.

From Jordan to Egypt I march and I sing
of women I've lost, and men that I've crossed,
but at least in Judea I'm a drunken king.

Yet it's funny, I'm the only one here
with a smile on my face, the whole place
seems so grim and it sure seems sincere.

They're so angry, I know what it must be,
that in my stupor I made a small blooper
when I pissed in the Mediterranean Sea.

But I haven't the time to pay such heed,
I'm having so much fun parading in the sun
as free as can be just drinking my mead.