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a second coming
it wasn´t quite what you´d a expected
on Logan avenue a sunday afternoon
but I recognized him when I saw him
despite the sea of faces passing
he comes slowly like in slo-mo
poor old man with his limp and his crutch
he´s gotta keep stopping
as the lunch crowd rushes past
his eyes they´ve seen their share of grief
like he never did get his piece
on his back the used clothes of a generation
who throw things out when they're out of fashion
so there he shuffles
through the slush and dirty snow
a horn blares to sound his coming
a cursing motorist shakes a fist
guess he sees me whatchin´ it all
´cause he looks right at me with this knowing smile
and I can´t help but laugh - quite a pair
him on his cane and me in my chair
