The Man at the Table

I am the man at the table

I wear an old suit without labels

My old guitar bothers the waiter

My coins in neat piles on the table

My eyes on the yellow page

The same words I've read for ages

About the mellow man

Who sat down when everyone ran

Many have called me unstable

They say I am lost in a fable

Ambition makes such blurry pictures

It gnaws away at your convictions

Now the only things I really need

Are the sun, a place to sit, a tree

The only thing I really want

Is silence before the hunt

I'm many tiny bits

That don't always seem to fit

Tied together by a thread

A small breeze can tear me to shreds

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I'm nowhere home

I'm nowhere, I'm home

I walk out and still have no label

My coins in the hand of the waiter

You didn't even notice I faded

'Cause I was just a man at a table