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