I'm a reader of books, a teller of stories

A poet in danger of drowning in words

And sometimes a singer who needs to remember

Some songs are better off left to the birds

The shadow maker still picks at the paper

And hands me a shadow that looks just like me

He's better than some with an eye and a thumb

For he knows how to touch and he knows how to see

The young artist waits for his friends at the doorway

And feeds on the praise that belongs to the proud

His muses all dressed in their gallery best

Will bend down to greet the applause of the crowd

The shadow maker still picks at the paper

A bucking horse cowboy as plain as can be

He's better than most with a lie or a boast

For he knows how to touch and he knows how to see

It's one of those nights in the heat of the night

When the truth is a razer electric and shrill

The manicans sing and the registers ring

And the dead tell us all how the living can kill

The shadow maker still picks at the paper

I feel like a door that's been handed the key

He's better than some with a knife or a gun

For he knows how to touch and he knows how to see

The shadow maker still picks at the paper

And hands me a shadow that looks just like me

He's better than some with an eye and a thumb

For he knows how to touch and he knows how to see