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 he do it himself or was it done to him?
People think he don't look well, But all he from what I can tell, Is someone to help wash away all the paint, From purple hands before gets too late.
I saw him stand alone ... under a broke light, So sincere ... singing silent night, But the trees were full ... and grass was green, It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
He may move But that don't mean he's going nowhere, He be moving slow, But that don't mean he's going nowhere.