He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile, Guess been that way for awhile, Got blood on his shoes and mud on his brim, Did do it to himself or was it done to him?
People think he don't look well, But all he needs from what I tell, Is someone to help wash away all paint, From his purple hands before it gets too late.
I saw him stand alone under a broke street light, So sincere ... singing silent But the trees were full and the grass was green, It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
He may move slow, But that don't he's going nowhere, He may be moving slow, But that mean he's going nowhere.