He's got a broken voice
And a twisted smile
Guess he's been that way now
For quite awhile
Got blood on his shoes
And mud on his brim
Did he do it to himself
Or was it done to him?
Now people think
That he don't look well
But all he needs
From what I can tell
Is someone to help
Wash away all the paint
From his purple hands
Before it gets too late
I saw him stand alone
Under a broken street light
So sincere
Singing silent night
But the trees there were full
And the grass was green
It was the sweetest thing
I had ever seen
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 going nowhere