Darkest Hour

The man came in half out of his head

His shoes were gone, he was half dead

Begging for water on his knees, we gave him all we had

Ahead of his time, always on the dime, he never made mistakes

Always lending, an interest pending, he almost never takes

Leaves an unlocked door and he gives to the poor

He's thanked like a saint

He folds his clothes on iron boards and he paints

The blood on the clothes found in the snow, lead them to him

Drinking like a hound in another town, he couldn't remember a thing

The day he made the break, the guards were late