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

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