The Man in the Window

Who’s that man in the window

Who’s that guy on the street

Who’s that man in the car

Who’s that guy at the bar

 

Take a look at the paper

You’ll find out later

Trust your sense as the evidence.

Sanctions pressed without official dress.

 

Children see it in his eyes,

with innocent hearts they realize

he’s not across the caution line.

“Let him go!” they cry.

“Something’s wrong,” they sigh.

 

And every day he lives like this,

the ship of dreams slowly lists.

The hopes in every princess’s

wish are proven amiss.

Fantasies of Disney reverie

decay, for lack of publicity.

 

Scared of the new world they face

bizarro-Asgard give a feast of waste

to cowards and slaves,

a Valhalla of red tape.

 

Who’s that man in the window

Who’s that guy on the street

Who’s that man in the car

Who’s that guy at the bar

 

He’s the man who’s steering

that ship slowly listing.

Don’t worry so for him

because he knows how to swim.

 

What’s to become of those ships at port

with crews years at work,

crafting a vessel with much muscle,

hoping one day to loosen the sails.

Where’s the hope in their voyage,

when the ship much stronger of sheet

sank shortly when the ocean it did meet?

 

Perhaps when picking apart the craft,

they’ll find an answer at last.

That the ship built strongest for the sea,

one constructed longest at home,

could not make the full journey.

For the captain had set without a crew to support

a ship too large for one man to work.

He deemed them unnecessary,

for liberty’s born with solitary pedigree.

But rowing forth through waves on a dinghy,

still pressing onward, that captain is free.

 

Who’s that man in the window

Who’s that guy on the street

Who’s that man in the car

Who’s that guy at the bar

 

Now you tell me.