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 goin' out of style

And he keeps right on a'changin'

for the better or the worse,

Searchin' for a shrine he's never found

Never knowin' if believin'

is a blessin' or a curse,

Or if the goin' up was worth the comin' 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 walkin' contradiction,

partly truth and partly fiction,

Takin' ev'ry 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 his devils, Lord,

and reachin' for the stars,

And losin' all he's loved along the way

But if this world keeps right on turnin'

for the better or the worse,

And all he ever gets is older and around

From the rockin' of the cradle

to the rollin' of the hearse,

The goin' up was worth the comin' 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 walkin' contradiction,

partly truth and partly fiction,

Takin' ev'ry wrong direction

on his lonely way back home.