Town Crier

Now summer had been no friend to him and fall was looming cold
 There was a pocket of warm near a jewelry store sellin things of gold
 So he sat himself beneath the sign in the window; it said Well made sold
 Jim Weston was a local cop, only 24 years old
 Got a call from the jewelry store, the same old message told
 Must be a million times, wish hed had a dime for every stop at that shop of gold
 But all is well, all is well
 All except for the town crier
 But hey, hed never tell
 You see he cries in his sleep
 And lies when he speaks
 All is well
 So the old man says, Nice to see you, Jim.
 And Jim smiled cause the whole town knew his name
 But he couldnt recall that of the man who was sittin out in the rain
 And his face was flushed with the blood of a heart of shame
 You gotta get going old man, this aint no place for you.
 The owners of the shop have complained.
 The old man pulls himself up and says, Well, thats just the same.
 Even a warm grate in a slab of concretes no place for a man with no name.