There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.

Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.

The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.

Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.

She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.

She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.

There are people somewhere
Almost no one knows about
There are girls and women boys and men
Gone beyond the places people care about
And, no one ever sees them again.
They laugh and love and work and share their daily bread
And, live within the fruits of the soil
Smiling at the treasures only found
In the efforts of the ones who toil.

And nobody sings their anthem
Nobody paves their way;
Trees and rocks are neighbors for
The ones who went away.
The ones who went away,
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
The ones who went away.

Somewhere smoke is curling from a handmade home
Someone sits adrift in a song
Tapping toes to rhythms of a timeless beat
And sometimes laughing loud and strong.
Someone no one knows about will sleep tonight
Content with what was done today.
Smiling with a face that seems to say
They wouldn’t have it any other way.

And nobody sings their anthem
Nobody paves their way;
Trees and rocks are neighbors for
The ones who went away.
The ones who went away,
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
The ones who went away.

Don't look into,
Homeless eyes.
Because,
You know their lives,
Are one big mess.

Don't look into,
Homeless eyes.
Don't look into,
Madness,
Despair,
And anxiety.
Don't look into,
Homeless eyes.
You'll only see,
The pain,
And agony,
They face,
Everyday.
Stay away,
From,
Homeless eyes.

Pushing their,
Shopping cart lives,
To the sidewalk's edge.
Hear them mumble.
Hear them mutter.
Endless paths of concrete.
Where they step off the ledge,
An' tumble into the gutter.

Haunted city streets,
Where the not yet dead,
Meet.

Comin' out at night.
Like zombies from the grave.
Haunted Eyes,
With no sight.
Haunted lives,
Enslaved.

Eyes that shed no life,
Look into black holes of death.
No mercy in their strife,
None 'till their last breath.

Haunted lives,
Living on the run.
Living on the street.
Haunted by the sun.
Haunted by the heat.
Living lies.
Haunted Eyes.
Bottle fed,
Needle led.
Living dead,
Have Haunted eyes.