The hobo

And he sits beside the fountain with his head bowed down don't look around At the grey steel and the concrete a man has never known a colder home With fifty cents for burgundy a paper bag that holds a change of socks and a bible that's too poor to hock And I looked into his eyes they were blue like mine I recognized 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 And every heart that ever broke one man's dreams a heavy load That died from an overdose of on the road sits  all  alone... I gave the man some money and wished him well as my eyes fell To his feet the bottom of a body wrapped up inside such ragged clothes That I felt like a millionaire with little more but rich so rich in love and no one gives a damn for him And I hope that he finds Jesus or a bed tonight or another drink I'd take him home but you see now I  don't  live  alone And 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 a heavy load That died from an overdose of on 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 burgundy And every heart that ever broke one man's dreams a heavy load That died from an overdose of on the road sits  all  alone...