For a while, couldn’t stand it, had to be on my own
My thoughts are a million to my patience that is one
For now I’m a running, while my faster thoughts come
This cold, black night’s freezing my teary blue balladeer minds’ eye
while alleyway emptiness echoes and cries, I’m
gonna’ busk out my wounds on the corner tonight
Though the wind’s ripping my skin like a sharp, cold steel knife
But I’m gonna’ race against everything; staggering on worry stilts
on conveyers of ice, wounded spirit takes a spill, n’ then collapsed confidence shrills
And my frost bitten conscience is burning, it hears,
The winter winds wailing in the alleys of fear
Now I’m caught in the crosswalks; trying to turn a blind ear
With the woman in rags who now always reappears
I pretend to not notice her broken, out here;
Making hand puppet shadows in the streetlights
For a carriage that’s been empty for the last 15 years
I’m stepping out on everything that is still staying
Despite all my shouting, crying and craving
I’ll still greet good morning, good day and good evening
To all but the millions of moments I’m feeling
And I’ll gather with the masses of Hamilton helpless
And wait for my education to fix me a way
Out of this routing of revolving each day / routine
And freely feel whether I’m damned or I’m blessed
But it won’t be in a waiting room for three quarters of the day
Under the weather in one room I won’t stay
Receiving prescriptions, for pills I can’t take,
From one man who hasn’t time to even hear what I say
And I’ll storm to the streets, to the angry and hopeless
Who crawl confused through refuse and I’ll know, what,
They’re real
And I’ll holler on the phone and they’ll hang up on me / I call back
And they’ll place me on hold till they’ve gotten rid of me
Though the wind’s ripping my skin like a sharp, cold steel knife
But I’m gonna’ race against everything; staggering on worry stilts
on conveyers of ice, wounded spirit takes a spill, n’ then collapsed confidence shrills
And my frost bitten conscience is burning, it hears,
The winter winds wailing in the alleys of fear
Now I’m caught in the crosswalks; trying to turn a blind ear
With the woman in rags who now always reappears
I pretend to not notice her broken, out here;
Making hand puppet shadows in the streetlights
For a carriage that’s been empty for the last 15 years
I’m stepping out on everything that is still staying
Despite all my shouting, crying and craving
I’ll still greet good morning, good day and good evening
To all but the millions of moments I’m feeling
And I’ll gather with the masses of Hamilton helpless
And wait for my education to fix me a way
Out of this routing of revolving each day / routine
And freely feel whether I’m damned or I’m blessed
But it won’t be in a waiting room for three quarters of the day
Under the weather in one room I won’t stay
Receiving prescriptions, for pills I can’t take,
From one man who hasn’t time to even hear what I say
And I’ll storm to the streets, to the angry and hopeless
Who crawl confused through refuse and I’ll know, what,
They’re real
And I’ll holler on the phone and they’ll hang up on me / I call back
And they’ll place me on hold till they’ve gotten rid of me
And the ragged woman with her carriage and puppets
She’s nobody’s’ fool, she is always there; casting
For always there is some kind of due process election
And we’re all caught up in her crosswalk while eighteen wheelers roar, past them
Delivering her platform; she stands in city halls’ fountain
And waves her arms, prophetically, in public, splashing
Outside, in the cold, it’s a furry of ranting
It starts to snow, in a flurry, she’s apprehended while some homeless kid’s laughing
They’re foretelling the future but nobody’s listening
Well I can’t even remember now, when I just sat; sitting
Not rushing, wishing, craving, ya know?
But I’m buskin away
Need to constantly go
I can’t flow
I’m falling; I’m freezing, on the shufflers’ sidewalk of snow
With my shadow puppets
Out here on Queen and Main
Where the shadow puppets go
She’s nobody’s’ fool, she is always there; casting
For always there is some kind of due process election
And we’re all caught up in her crosswalk while eighteen wheelers roar, past them
Delivering her platform; she stands in city halls’ fountain
And waves her arms, prophetically, in public, splashing
Outside, in the cold, it’s a furry of ranting
It starts to snow, in a flurry, she’s apprehended while some homeless kid’s laughing
They’re foretelling the future but nobody’s listening
Well I can’t even remember now, when I just sat; sitting
Not rushing, wishing, craving, ya know?
But I’m buskin away
Need to constantly go
I can’t flow
I’m falling; I’m freezing, on the shufflers’ sidewalk of snow
With my shadow puppets
Out here on Queen and Main
Where the shadow puppets go
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