Honore

Honore is huddled near East 53rd His life in a pile, not too far from the curb It's come down to this place But he's not deterred Honore is huddled near East 53rd And Honore sits on the lower East Side He's lost about everything Except for his pride A man with a vision The visions denied And Honore sits on the lower East Side They used to say Honore wasn't all there He'd a penchant for speeches and thousand-yard stares They said that he fought when some half-breeds rebelled Sometimes he would weep And he'd whisper or yell Now Honore is buried in some pauper's grave Of his archives, there wasn't left to be saved 49 boxes of books hauled away And a deed for some land Near a place called the clay And Honore was all he said so it seemed The last act of life left him far from his dreams They took it away And it can't be redeemed And Honore was all he said so it seemed They used to say Honore wasn't all there He'd a penchant for speeches, and thousand-yard stares They said that he'd fought when some half-breeds rebelled Sometimes he would weep And he'd whisper or yell Sometimes he would weep And he'd whisper or yell