Junk Bond Trader (Early version)

The imitation wore a colorful habit
Writing in the glow of the TV's static
Taking out the trash to the man
Give the people something they understand
A stickman flashing a fine-line smile
A junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a style
Rich man in a poor man's clothes
The permanent installment of the daily dose
And you tell people they're too paranoid
But it's only you they must avoid
Fast asleep in a small reality
Boring as a drug you take too regularly
The athelete's laugh, the broken crutch
The first true love failed because you felt too much
Night brought you to no decision
But to execute every day with precision
"Happy Holidays," said sad saviour
The leaving line that I still favor
You gave me rhetoric
No sympathy
The sad song of a symphony
But I don't expect
Anyone to quite connect
My broken heart together
Now I'm a policeman directing traffic
Keeping everything moving, everything static
I'm the hitchhiker you'll recognize passing
On your way to some everlasting
Everlasting waving hand
Everlasting waving hand
Everlasting waving hand
Everlasting waving hand
Everlasting waving, everlasting waving hand