This here is a story
'Bout a guy who stood still
Stood still, he said 'nill
Never ate no overkill
One spot his whole life
Was born and later died
Where others just passed
He was amassed
Until one day, he had his fill
Grand Central Terminal
Manhatten, I am suprised he wasn't flattened
He was perched, not like a birch
But like sequoias way out west
And that's the best kind of best
He found his calling right before his eyes
He's by the side of the stairs
And as for him well no one cares
Down by the end of the railing
And his gaze in just one place
Blond marble transfixed
No clothes he ever wore
Most people, they grow sour
Most people grow sore
But he had it all, for all time
Elroy
Midtown at rush hour
Working people, faces dim
Foot traffic, busy ants
With schedules hampering their lives
And people passed right through him
Was no one who ever knew him
He could get a ticked and just leave there
He could feel some things and do some things
In other places, than that same set of stairs
But no one saw him
No one knew
Just one thing
Ya had to do
To be a passionate fellow
With blood that runs mellow
You just stop
You just stop
In his teenage years
No rebellion
No frothy, icy angst
Never had to use no money
At no big, shiny banks
Was given nothing to live on
And to his mom, he never said "thanks"
Incubated as a child
With just a view so soft an mild
He had no standing
No place
And no rank
No education, friends, or job
Just senses of heightened perception
Never got cold, he slept there standing
Relentless quest for perfection
Muscles willing and able
But no place he ever went
No arguments
Shared elation
Just one single celebration
He was absorbed
Just looking at that place in the station
But no one saw him
No one knew
This man whose life was pure bliss
Just one thing he had to do
If you stop insanity
You can give life a kiss
You just stop
You just stop
And it ain't no fabrication
No myth I say, "He really lived"
His joy, it was immense
His contentment, divine
I imagine
He was discerning
Truths we discuss but rarely find
I could see that he might see possibilities of all kinds
Ten thousand myriad things
Pour through a single entity band
Seems like the only real thing in this here world you get in a free hand
And when he was old, weathered, and ragged
He bravely took one step ahead
He looked high at the ceiling
Looked down, shrugged his shoulders and said
"Okay, well this is nice..."
"Okay, it's pretty nice"
Took one last breath
And swiftly died