cultural currency

i shuffle through the alleyways where i feel at home
with my ghosts at my shoulders i'm not walking alone
the brightest day can't reach me here i'm too far gone
'cause i'm a man of the moon and i can't stand the sun

a doorway pops out in the wall that's right by my side
the door's lock clicks and then i hear a voice from inside
telling me to open it and find space to hide
from a tired world of lies that killed those ghosts who have died

…

i take it 'cause you're offering, it makes me feel good
it lets me close my eyes and feel the warmth that i should
there's love in my heart and some rest for my soul
there's nowhere i need to run to and no-one's in control
…

i'm empty and alone as i walk back to the street
where the man who would dance around no longer has feet
he's passed by another who's got food but can't eat
who won't spare him a coin, 'cause he's thinking "dead-beat"

but the beat isn't dead, he's still hearing it strong
and he taps what he's got and he's singing along
for a man who's got music and the words of a song
there's some hope and forgiveness for a world that's done wrong

i toss the dude a dollar, take a seat right behind
he nods and smiles to let me know that he doesn't mind
his teeth are broken yellow and his eyes are quite lined
and in them i see that none of us is one of a kind

…

i take it 'cause you're offering, it makes me feel good
it lets me close my eyes and feel the warmth that i should
there's love in my heart and some rest for my soul
there's nowhere i need to run to and no-one's in control

the tin chime of your dime is gold and makes me feel fine
it goes up in smoke, which is much better than wine
that shit leaves me holy, they should make you a saint
of the words that i rhyme and the pictures i paint

…

ghosts are all we know and each one speaks to our youth
if you listen really hard you'll hear the fountain of truth