The leper and the saint met on the corner of State and Liberty
When the leper stretched his hands out full of hope
The saint replied, "I'm sorry, sir, I cannot heal just anyone
You must have me confused with someone else"
And he walked away
He didn't say another word, he walked away
And left him strung out on the curb
The poet and the widow sat in an empty room on Stadium
And drank themselves to sleep one Sunday morn
And when he woke, he saw that widow
Frozen in a pool of blood
That looked more real than any of his poems
And he walked away
He didn't say a word
He walked away, just wishing he was her