Broken

He's got a broken voice

And a twisted smile

Guess he's been that way

Now for quite awhile

He's got blood on his shoes

And mud on his brim

Did he do it to himself

Or was it done to him

Now people say that 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 they were full

And the grass was green

It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen

He may move slow

That don't mean he's going nowhere

He may be moving slow

That don't mean he's going nowhere