|
See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeans, |
|
Wearin' yesterday's misfortunes like a smile-- |
|
Once he had a future full of money, love, and dreams, |
|
Which he spent like they was goin' outa style-- |
|
And he keeps right on a'changin' for the better or the worse, |
|
Searchin' for a shrine he's never found-- |
|
Never knowin' if believin' is a blessin' or a curse, |
|
Or if the goin' up was worth the comin' down-- |
|
Chorus: |
|
He's a poet, he's a picker-- |
|
He's a prophet, he's a pusher-- |
|
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's stoned-- |
|
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction, |
|
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home. |
|
He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars, |
|
And he's traded in tomorrow for today-- |
|
Runnin' from his devils, lord, and reachin' for the stars, |
|
And losin' all he's loved along the way-- |
|
But if this world keeps right on turnin' for the better or the worse, |
|
And all he ever gets is older and around-- |
|
>from the rockin' of the cradle to the rollin' of the hearse, |
|
The goin' up was worth the comin' down-- |
|
Chorus: |
|
He's a poet, he's a picker-- |
|
He's a prophet, he's a pusher-- |
|
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's stoned-- |
|
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction, |
|
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home. |
|
There's a lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home. |
