I'd write you a song but I'm tone deaf
I'd draw you a sketch but I'm blind
Portrait hanging in a dim lit hallway,
"What was he thinking, where was his mind?"
I could send semaphores but my arms hurt
The flags are all torn anyway
"Who is that fool on the hill?
I see him up there almost every day."
Well I'm the blind prophet with no words to express
The way that I feel about this emptiness
You said I've gotta get off it, but I'm the blind prophet
I tried to capture in verse all my feelings
But the paper was hopelessly small
"Who wrote this degenerate fluff?
It hardly even scans at all!"
I could tell you I love you in a thousand ways
But none would exactly fit me
So I guess I'll shut up now, and just do my job
And you'll see what I mean eventually
Well I'm the blind prophet with no words to express
The way that I feel about this emptiness
You said I've gotta get off it, but I'm the blind prophet