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See him wasted on the sidewalk in his Jacket and his Jeans,
Wearing yesterday's misfortune like a smile.
Once he had a future full of money, love and dreams,
Which he spend like they was going out of style.
And he keeps right on a-changin' for the better or the worse,
And searchin' for a shrine he's never found,
Never knowing if believing is a blessing or a curse,
Or if the going up was worth the coming down.
He's a poet;
He's a prophet;
He's a pusher;
He's a pilgrim and a precher and a problem when he's stoned;
He's a walking contradiction,
Partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin' every wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
He has tated good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars,
And he's traded in tomorrow for today.
Running from his devils, Lord,and reachin' for the stars,
And losin' all he 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 rolling of the hearse,
The goin' up was worth the comin' down.