The Pilgrim, Chapter 33

See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeans

Wearin' yesterday's misfortunes like a smile

Once he had a future full of money love and dreams

Which he spent 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 knowin' if believin' is a blessin' or a curse

Or if the going up is worth to coming down

He's a poet he's a picker he's a prophet he's a pusher

He's a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he's stoned

He's a walking contradiction partly truth and partly fiction

Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home

He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars

And he's traded in tomorrow for today

Runnin' from the devils Lord and reachin' for the stars

And losin' all he loved along the way

But if this world keeps right on turning for the better or the worse

All he ever gets is older and around

From the rocking of the cradle to the rolling of the hearse

The going up was worth the coming down

He's a poet he's a picker...

There's lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home