See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeans,
Wearin yesterdays 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 achangin for the better or the worse,
Searchin for a shrine hes never found--
Never knowin if believin is a blessin or a curse,
Or if the goin up was worth the comin down--
Chorus:
Hes a poet, hes a picker--
Hes a prophet, hes a pusher--
Hes a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when hes stoned--
Hes a walkin contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin evry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars,
And hes traded in tomorrow for today--
Runnin from his devils, lord, and reachin for the stars,
And losin all hes 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:
Hes a poet, hes a picker--
Hes a prophet, hes a pusher--
Hes a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when hes stoned--
Hes a walkin contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin evry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
Theres a lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home.
Wearin yesterdays 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 achangin for the better or the worse,
Searchin for a shrine hes never found--
Never knowin if believin is a blessin or a curse,
Or if the goin up was worth the comin down--
Chorus:
Hes a poet, hes a picker--
Hes a prophet, hes a pusher--
Hes a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when hes stoned--
Hes a walkin contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin evry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars,
And hes traded in tomorrow for today--
Runnin from his devils, lord, and reachin for the stars,
And losin all hes 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:
Hes a poet, hes a picker--
Hes a prophet, hes a pusher--
Hes a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when hes stoned--
Hes a walkin contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin evry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
Theres a lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home.