Norah Jones - Broken

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He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile,

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Guess he's been that wa__y now for quite a while,

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He's got blood on his shoes and mud on his brim,

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Did he do it to himself or was it done to him?





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And people think he don't look well,

But all he needs from what I can tell,

Is someone to help wash away all the paint,

From his purple hands before it gets too late.



I saw him stand alone under a broken street light,

So sincere, singing silent night,

But the trees, they were full and the grass was green,

It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.



He may move slow,

But that don't mean he's going nowhere,

He may be moving slow,

But that don't mean he's going nowhere.