The Pilgrim; Chapter 33 — текст песни (Kristofferson Kris)

See him wasted on the sidewalk in his jacket and his jeans,
Wearin` yesterday`s misfortunes like a smile--
Once he had a future full of money, love, and dreams,
Which he spent like they was goin` outa style--
And he keeps right on a`changin` for the better or the worse,
Searchin` for a shrine he`s never found--
Never knowin` if believin` is a blessin` or a curse,
Or if the goin` up was worth the comin` down--
CHORUS:
He`s a poet, he`s a picker--
He`s a prophet, he`s a pusher--
He`s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he`s stoned--
He`s a walkin` contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin` ev`ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.

He has tasted good and evil in your bedrooms and your bars,
And he`s traded in tomorrow for today--
Runnin` from his devils, Lord, and reachin` for the stars,
And losin` all he`s loved along the way--
But if this world keeps right on turnin` for the better or the worse,
And all he ever gets is older and around--
>From the rockin` of the cradle to the rollin` of the hearse,
The goin` up was worth the comin` down--

CHORUS:
He`s a poet, he`s a picker--
He`s a prophet, he`s a pusher--
He`s a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he`s stoned--
He`s a walkin` contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction,
Takin` ev`ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home.
There`s a lotta wrong directions on that lonely way back home.