I can see you want my story.
I can see it in your gaze.
I can see it in the questions
That you're trying not to raise.
Though there's sorrows here aplenty.
I forgot just how to cry.
I can see it as you're wondering,
And trying not to pry.
They gave me food and shelter,
And they gave a place to rest,
And a stony sanctuary
Haven for the dispossessed.
So I'm in that sanctuary,
Where no one ends up by choice.
There's a girl who has no hearing,
And a legion with no voice.
There's a Father who is gentle,
And a Beast who is sublime,
And a Mouse inside our household,
And three spinsters, out of time.
There's a whore who tends her daughter,
And a troll who bangs on pipes.
And a black man with a hammer.
All got stories. All got types.
There's a mason loves his woman,
She could set him any task.
I can see you want my story,
Though you're too polite to ask.
I had an address in the Village,
And a dream for off-Broadway.
I can see now that you're wondering,
And don't know what to say.
There were deals done in the alleys,
There were trades done after dark.
Not all the "prancing ponies"
Go around in Central Park.
The old men liked me pretty,
And the rich men liked me deep.
Yes, I could tell a story,
That would set your heart to weep.
So you may not want my story,
And if you don't, then that's just fine.
We can trade if you're still willing.
You show me yours, I'll show you mine.