The Kindest Man In Town

[Verse] There lived a man who heard the ache in every sound the world could make: beneath locked doors, in kettles’ cries, in iron bells that bruised the skies; in dogs that sang the whole night long to one pale face that answered none. “If sorrow needs a room,” he said, “then let it rest inside my bed.” He turned his pockets: nothing there ... no coin, no crust, no gift to spare. His hands were bare, his cupboard too, yet still he sought some good to do. So through the storm at dusk he went ... his coat worn thin ... with good intent, while winter tightened its embrace and slowly wiped away his trace. [Chrous - powerful] Uuuh—uuuh—uuuh Mhhmmhmmmm Uhhhuhuuuu Ohoooooooo Aaahaaahaaa Ohooooh—ohooooo [Verse] First, he saw a fiddler in despair, two empty sleeves in frozen air. The man gave him his hands ... and soon the strings drew fire from the moon. He found a dancer in the frost, too numb to stand, all motion lost. His own two legs he gave ... and then the dancer leapt and spun again. Heel over heel, he wheeled around and swept the snow up from the ground; the man dragged on through ice and sleet, with gaping wounds for hands and feet. And there, ... beside the chapel’s candle-glow, a mute singer watched the falling snow. His voice he gave; a hymn caught fire and rose beyond the chapel spire. At last he met a painter blind, all colors trapped inside his mind, the brush lay still, his sight was gone, each canvas pale as winter dawn. He gave him both his eyes ... and took the darkness as his price. Then through the stillness, vast and new, he heard a trembling whisper: “Blue.” [Chrous] Uuuh—uuuh—uuuh Mhhmmhmmmm Uhhhuhuuuu Ohoooooooo Aaahaaahaaa Ohooooh—ohooooo [Instrumental transition] [Verse] They found him lying by the road, alone, too broken now to crawl back home. No mercy stooped to lift his head, but well-fed thieves drew near instead: in wool and rings, with gloves kept clean ... the finest vultures ever seen. One stole his warmth, the last small heat, and tucked it round his pampered feet. One took his laughter, thin and clear, to hang it where no joy comes near. Then from his chest they took his heart parading it like sacred art. Beneath cold glass with ruthless care they raised it in the market square. The whole town came to watch it fight to beat without him through the night. “What a selfless heart!” they cheered ... then one by one, they disappeared. But when it shivered, weak and slow, and struck the glass one final blow, the smallest vulture left the show and found him buried in the snow. He bent above him where he lay and kissed his final breath away. [Final-Chrous] Uuuh—uuuh—uuuh Mhhmmhmmmm Uhhhuhuuuu Ohoooooooo Aaahaaahaaa Ohooooh—ohooooo [Outro] They mourned the heart beneath the glass, but let its nameless owner pass. Sometimes the world repays the souls who give by feeding till they cease to live. [End]