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| The Artist Was Bored No 265 |
Here comes the
ragman with his bag of bones
With his flesh
like winter and his heart of stone
Don't let him
touch you with his icy breath
The gifts the
ragman brings bring only death
Here comes the
ragman with his sores unhealed
Looking like a
scarecrow in some barren field
Don't let him
tempt you with his silver tongue
The knots the
ragman ties can't be undone
I saw the ragman
once, when I was young
His face was
painted blood-red on a bomb
His hands were
twisted, his lips were numb
I felt him kiss
me, I backed away
He said: Don't
worry, I'll get you boy one day
He doesn't give a
damn if you're old or young
When you least
expect him, that's when he comes
Can you smell the
fever, the rotting bones
Can you see the
shadow beneath the ghostly gown
Could be the
ragman, come to track you down
Pity the ragman
with his leper's bell
Wandering forever
in his leper's hell
Handing out dying
to sick and well
Carrying his
burden, marked upon his breath
Only the ragman
can never know of death
You can find David Prashker at:
If
you would like to include "The Ragman" in your repertoire,
either for paid public performance or to record for commercial
purposes, or if you would like to re-use the recordings attached to this
blog-page for commercial purposes, contact
argaman@theargamanpress.com.
Use of this song, and/or these recordings, for
non-commercial purposes, is not simply permitted but invited.
Words and music by David Prashker
Copyright © 2014 David Prashker
All rights reserved
The Argaman Pres
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