Broken

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 broke street light

So sincere, singing silent night

But the trees were full, and the grass was green

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