graybeard prophet -a-day...

*Graybeard the Trench coat Prophet* He carelessly strays through the dangerous lane I hear nothing but the static fuzz of his chalk-line wasted eyes wane He meanders, unfazed, like oblivion but sane Waxing a sermon to the hunting shift-working game Along Queen St. Between York and Main He staggers n' fumbles, then swaggers and stumbles He pouts, then stares, fixes glares through me then he shouts He's a broken down Rolls Royce Through a buzz of swarming vehicles, echoes his voice right to my mental health it writhes like a worm on a sewer well He's Graybeard the trench coat prophet He's the foreshadowing fool of ol' Hammer town He's Graybeard the trench coat prophet He never can be run down Nobody will knock him down He's hollering out like some poor ol’ sick fool In the traffic at rush hour the message is tragic Like wizardry, witchcraft, dark pantomime magic, It's a dagger of the mind, To be or not to be We all drone on and pass it He must've escaped from the mountain nut house We say to our doubting, fearful, blanched, blank selves While we anxiously spy through our rearview and steer Toward each and every separately crammed wartime shithouse While he disappears He's Graybeard the trench coat prophet He's the fool who knows all in Hammer town He's Graybeard, the trench coat prophet Nobody can knock him down He never will be knocked down Nobody will ever run him down! Graybeard cries in the nightGraybeard roams in and then out of our lives