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I was alone, and my train was late that night |
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I saw a crumpled man blinded by the life that he treated himself to |
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crippled from the nights receiving endless beatings that even a house couldn't endure |
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palm raised skyward, his meager belongings collected on the floor |
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singing songs to no one about nothing, but crying because they mean so much |
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it's these babblings that keep his life going, keep the nickels flowing deep into his cup |
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there we both were framed in awkward silence, and I was in his living room invading his trust |
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he finally said to me that he had "one last cigarette to smoke and it was time to give it up" |
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but he laughed and added he "wasn't sure which to give up his life or the habit" |
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he said "it's my habits that made my fingers weak, when my chances came I couldn't grab it |
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but it's my life that made it hard and when my opportunities were there for free I chose my habits" |
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I half smiled and offered the most empathetic nod that I could conjure up, and said "I hear you brother I've got problems too, but words won't fill your cup |
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I've got responsibilities to face and they're woven tight to my dreams |
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I've got more bills to pay than I have time and I'm starting to rip at the seams |
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I've got a plan and I know that if I stick to it I can accomplish happiness |
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I've got goals that beat my will and lately it's been hard to accept the challenge." |
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and he said: "man, that's God talking to you, and I don't know why you can't see |
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you're so blind that you can't spare to make change because all your focus is on "m-e" |
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all wrapped up in your own skin that you can't help set an old man free |
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I've been in your shoes before it feels like it was yesterday if not at all |
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my existence has been a blink and for the life of me I can't remember what I saw." |
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that made so much sense to me, even though I convinced myself that he was totally insane |
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I bent over and lit his cigarette and told him to mind his own business |
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because I was just waiting for my train |
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he said "I've been waiting here forever just dying in my skin, and the only reason you're living life is because your curious what'll happen in the end" |
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"that might be true but why should I pay my hard earned attention to vagabond doctrine |
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if you've got so much knowledge to give why not treat yourself to what you're offering |
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you probably have lived a hard life, and I apologize, but I have my own problems, that you couldn't understand just like a lot of guys |
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now, here's a couple bucks go buy yourself whatever makes you happy |
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even though I've promised myself to never pay for you to make my city look trashy" |
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he refused the money and sat there singing songs of love and hate |
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I crammed the change in my pocket, called him a lunatic and went on with my wait |
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as I stood there hovering near his tiny frame I could feel his eyes judging me sadly |
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it's as if he had to convince me that my life was on the wrong track, and I needed it badly |
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I said "Hey old man, your cigarette's all smoked up, it's time for you to leave" |
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he looked at the trail of ash on his shirt and smiled as if it gave him some sort of relief |
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he propped himself up, collected his life and got prepared to become one with the night |
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he turned around and wished me luck with all my plans, and said something about learning to walk before I ran |
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Before I knew it he was out of my sight, and I had already forgotten his reasonings |
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I could hear my train coming and home was on my mind not his cryptic meanings |
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another traveler was on the platform and for some reason he was running towards me |
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all I could see was his eyes, but it's his words that will always stick with me |
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through his heavy breaths he asked if I had just spent time with the old man |
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I nodded in affirmation and tried to calm him, so he could tell me why he ran. |
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and he said: "man, that was God talking to you, how could you not see |
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that was God talking right to your face trying to hand you the keys |
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he was right here and I can't understand why you chose to make him leave |
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he just died in my arms right outside the station and said you were his only friend |
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he begged me to tell you about his life, make you see the light, give you your chance again." |
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I cringed at the reality that was facing me |
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I told the man I had no time for this and on my way I had to be |
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right about that time my train pulled up and I made my escape |
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I sat in the empty plastic seat, and held tight to my fate |
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that was decades ago, and now I sit singing on my own platform |
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my belongings stowed tightly in my bags handing out my sad sad songs |
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and I say it's my habits that make my fingers weak, when my chances come I can't grab them |
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but it's my life that makes it hard and when my opportunities are there for free I choose my habits |
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I have no responsibilities and as a result I no longer need my dreams |
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I don't have any bills to pay, it's like I'm free but I'm really in captivity |
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I don't have any plans except to just sit here and try and weather the storm |
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I wish I had goals but if I had those then I wouldn't be here warning you on my platform |
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singing train songs. |
