the lowest point it was a bridge
or  a field by the park
it could have been the greyhound station
or the truck stop after dark

wandering toward a blurry point
a sunburn in his hand
nothing but this blanket
and a memory of good land

I'm coming back to where love is
there must be one thing that remained
a shard of my old countenance
that proves I am not stained

The light is bright I see it!
it burns away the present dark
behold the joy is rising
our hero may still make some mark

At 2 A.M this morning
the bad guy proved himself
he got back on his feet
and found his missing health