Apocalypse Jones

He’s part owner of the street and may god bless you for your dimes,
He is a proud connoisseur of these palpable end times,
A little wild-eyed and scary looking but he would never hurt anyone,
Just wants you to know god is your savior and he sent his only son.
Apocalypse Jones told Mr. Smith,
Life is like a little bird you found; fallen from its nest,
You must give it back to its creator but first you cradle it in your breast.
Sometimes he’s divine inspiration but most the time just nonsense,
He talks about the righteous future in a precious past tense.
There’s no one left who can remember why he doesn’t have a home,
Some say his woman died and after the funeral he just started to roam.
Apocalypse Jones told Bonnie Brown,
Love is a perfect day but the weather man he sends the rain,
Anyone living under the sky must live with the beauty of the pain.
Always mumbling to himself or some unseen witness divine,
Staring off into the yonder not sure if that’s a signpost or a sign,
He goes down to the river’s edge even though he’s terrified by the rush of the
flow,
That supple; tenuous; tragedy of motion is all a man can know.
Apocalypse Jones told Mr. Whatever,
The mind is an angel the body is the beast; know what you’re doing,
Count your blessings before your curses lest the world bait your ruin.