The useless man puts out his hand to paint dreams on a canvass o fair
And I understand for it is my soul that paints him right there
I drop a coin into his cup as I walk on by
And he says to me you will be free the moment you decide
And I go on my way
Like a victim of the day
That working class has caught me

I’m planning my escape
And though most folk ignore me
I’ll soon be on my way
I’ll soon be on my way

The early mornings and late nights
Cut lines into my skin
And I tread the sidewalk to a rhythm
That never ends
But I meet a smile that breaks the noise
In my masquerade
Now I can ignore what lies in store with the grief of a working day

I see dreams and other ways
But still a victim of the day