Two Cents

Left home all alone in the night to find me a priest Said to collect your last lone piece From all your evil ills Distilled to a drop of honesty and good will Hunting for everything With two cents to my name Nothing to carry sins But burdens and my shame There, rolling plain, the homeless pastor Strolled a river's end Debating ways of construing a statue out of mud Muttered, "I'd invite you to my cathedral But it drowned in floods most deceitful." As I reached for and grasped at my last two cents For to ask him for wisdom Insistent at my expense Got me weak at my knees, and I'm seeking out retreat A great feast lying wasted in my mind Lined and laced with a taste of novocaine Ain't got no wisdom, no form or system Born with a gift of two cents to my kingdom Life sentence of discontent The priest he stood silent As he tossed away my payment A pittance for my penance Said, "I got no wisdom to dispense To you who've got no semblance of a pain Left home all alone in the night to find me a healer Said to tend the world and all its fevers Broken backs and stacks of worn out chills Still all the night with a single pill Pushing eternity And two cents, the tensions of blame To lessen my broken sense There stood the professor on the outskirts Forest of burning timbers Knocking pine cones from the highest post Bemoaning, "Man I used to own a practice Til all my patients confused me for a cactus." As I pawned off the last of my belongings For to ask him for wisdom Disabuse me from my illusions Got me weak at my knees, and I'm seeking out retreat A great feast lying wasted in my mind Lined and laced with a taste of novocaine Ain't got no wisdom, no form or system Born with a gift of two cents to my kingdom Life sentence of discontent The doctor he stood silent As he tossed away my payment A pittance for my penance Said, "Got no medicine to dispense To you who've got no semblance of a pain Left home all alone in the night to find me a beggar Said to spend his pennies for anyone in any weather To the rich, the poor, the bound and free-willed Giving everything til his final breath stands still Searching for a cold winter soul To fill my cold splinters full with golden frame From an empty dock The tramp locks his fishing pole Tossing hemlock onto the bedrock Talking, "Those fish, they need the food Throw a cent or two, for luck and good fortune." And I'm searching for my last two cents Clemency from my misery so dense Got me weak at my knees, and I'm seeking out retreat A great feast lying wasted in my mind Lined and laced with a taste of novocaine Ain't got no wisdom, no form or system Born with a gift of two cents to my kingdom Life sentence of discontent The beggar he stood silent As he gave me back my payment Abundance of clemency As he said, "No horizon between the sky and sea Your misery and your remedy are one and the same."