He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile
Guess he's been that way 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?

People think 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 were full, and the grass was green
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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