He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile, he's been that way for quite Got blood on his shoes and mud on his brim, Did he do to himself or was it done to him?
People think don't look well, But all he needs from 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 But the trees were full ... and grass was green, It was the sweetest thing I had ever
He may move slow, But that don't mean he's going nowhere, He may be moving slow, But that don't mean he's nowhere.