And he sits beside the fountain
And
with his head bowed down don't look
around at the gray steel and the
concrete a man has never known a colder
home with 50 cents for burgundy a paper
bag that holds a change of socks and a
Bible that's too poor to hog and I
I looked into his eyes.
They were blue like mine.
I re cognized the hollow, sunken feeling
like some work of art they painted
to hang upon the wall.
As we gathered round to praise the
honesty of one man's
lonely misery an d every heart that ever
broke one man's dreams a heavy load that
died from an overdose of on the road
I gave the man some money and
wished him well as my eyes fell to his feet, the bottom of
my body wrapped up inside
such ragged clothes
that I felt like a millionaire
with a little more,
but rich, so rich in love.
And no one gives a damn for him.
And I hope that he finds
Je sus, or a bed tonight,
or another drink.
I'd take him home, but you see now,
I don't live alone, even if I did.
Some other reason would make me think
of the places that I must go.
And every heart that ever broke,
one man's dreams,
There's a heavy load that died from
an overdose along the road.
Sits all alone.
And maybe if he got a shave and washed
the blood off of his face
and changed his suit he'd be some use to this country
this prosperity but he's bleeding in his
soul they haven't found a cure for that you see except
for maybe bur gundy an d every heart that
ever broke.
One man's dreams,
a heavy load that died from an overdose of on -the -road
sits all alone.