Man of a Thousand Faces Lyrics

The man of a thousand faces Sits down at the table Eats a small lump of sugar And smiles at the moon like he knows her
And begins his quiet ascension Without anyone's steady instruction To a place and no religion Has found a path to our alikeness
His words are quiet like stains Are on a tablecloth washed in a river Stains that are trying to cover for each other Or at least blend in with the pattern
Good is better than perfect Scrub till your fingers are bleeding And I'm crying for things that I tell others to do without crying
He used to go to his favorite bookstores And rip out his favorite pages And stuff 'em into his breast pockets The moon to him was a stranger
Now he sits down at a table right next to the window And begins his quiet ascension Without anyone's steady instruction To a place and no religion Has found a path to our alikeness
And he eats a small lump of sugar And smiles at the moon like he knows her