He was just a scared old man
Trying to find one last dream
He could hold on
Survived all those years of hard living
With just an old guitar
And a pair of eyes…
That could look straight thru you.
He used to tell me that summer was the best time
You see it rained too much in the spring and the fall.
Then there were these winter nights
When the cold wind could kill you
If you din’t have a warm place
Where you could sleep on a friendly floor.
He had no delusions of grandeur.
He was never one to walk
In another man’s parade.
He was just trying to finish
One last song he was gonna call
His park bench serenade.
The few friends he had made
They were dead or gone…
He took it as a curse
That the lord had saved him.
And I had heard the rumours
There once was a woman in his life…
You know they say, “she really changed him”.
We’ve all got scars on our backs, my young friend,
But the one’s that hurt the most
You don’t let anybody ever see.
We keep locked up so deep inside ourselves
While we are waiting for death’s honesty.
You will lose delusions of grandeur
If you can just realize
You and me, we are exactly the same.
Somewhere between the cradle and the grave
You will find me…
Singing this park bench serenade.
He would shake his head and say
“This part of the city it’s turning into a third world country”.
Look at those lines
Waiting outside the mission doors
You ever seen so many people…
Who’s only crime is going hungry.
It’s only around election time
That the politicians come down here.
Swearing with your vote…
“They can make it all change”.
But after they line their pockets
With your last bit of hope
It just keeps getting worse…
Day after day after day.
They can blind you with their delusions of grandeur
Confuse you with words.
Like “A righteous, moral crusade”.
But outside their cesspool of corruption
I will be waiting…
With my park bench serenade.
He didn’t get along to well with other people
“They’re all phonies.
Can’t believe a word they say”.
They say “helo”shake your hand,
Ask you “how are you doing”
Oh you try to tell ‘em…
They’ve already walked away.
You ever notice out on the street
Nobody’s ever smiling.
They act like they’re tough as nails
With their eyes glued to the ground.
Like they’re searching for something
They’ve already thrown away.
Hiding inside their delusions of grandeur
Like little robot zombies
In an endless parade.
Hoping that nobody sees thru them
Or their fear…
Of my park bench serenade.
He died in his sleep
With a smile on his face.
I was at the funeral…
You know, nobody came.
For some reason he left me
His old guitar and these words
Om a piece of paper…
It was a song he told me “you better learn”.
Something about love being such a precious word
But the way it’s used these days people
That’s where the danger lies.
Everybody says “they are looking for the thruth”.
If they could just…
Find the extra time.
So beware of those delusions of grandeur
And don’t ever walk
In another man’s parade.
And on those days
You need something to believe in…
Remember, my little park bench serenade