Broken

He's got a broken voice and a twisted smile Guess he's been that way now for quite a while He's got blood on his shoes and mud on his brim Did he do it to himself or was it done to him? Now people say that he don't look well But all he needs from what I can tell Is someone to help wash away all the paint From his purple hands before it gets too late I saw him stand alone under a broken street light So sincere, singing silent night But the trees, they were full and the grass was green It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen He may move slow But that don't mean he's going nowhere He may be moving slow But that don't mean he's going nowhere --- Broken - Norah Jones