From the recording Canticles for the Profane
Lyrics
The Tattered Man
He’s trying to do the best he can, trying to fix what's broken
But the words to mend the tattered man as yet remain unspoken
Confused by all the open doors, the myriad blind choices
He’s deafened by the whispers of a thousand different voices
Saying whoa to the tattered man. They say whoa to the tattered man
Under the enamel shell, the brightly painted faces
Is an isolated tattered man, alone in his dark places
But somewhere in the silence a little boy is waiting
To mend the many fissures that the tattered man’s creating
And he says whoa to the tattered man. He says whoa to the tattered man
Sing a song for what's been broken. A lament for what's been lost
Sing a requiem to innocence and bridges still uncrossed
Spare a lyric for the lonely; a chorale for what’s long gone
Sing an aria to absence, such a melancholy song
Sing a dirge to paths not taken. Sing it softly as you can
Sing it gentle as a whisper; sing it for the tattered man
We'll all say whoa to the tattered man. We say whoa to the tattered man
And I say whoa to the tattered man. I say whoa to the tattered man