Man of a Thousand Faces

The (Bb)man of a thousand (Dm)faces

(Bb)sits down at the (Dm)table,

(Gm)eats a small lump of (Bb)sugar

and (Gm)smiles at the moon like he (Bb)knows her.

(Dm)He begins his quiet (Bb)ascension

(Dm)without anyone's steady (Bb)instruction.

(F)To a place and no (Bb)(F)religion,

(G7)he's found a path to her alikeness.

(Bb)His words are quiet like stains are

on a tablecloth washed in a (Dm)river.

(F)Stains that are trying to (Bb)(F)cover for each (Bb)other,

or at (G7)least blend in with the pattern.

(Bb)Good is better than (Dm)perfect,

(Bb)scrub 'til your fingers are (Dm)bleeding.

(Gm)And I'm crying for (Bb)things that

I tell (Gm)others to do without (Bb)crying.

(Dm)He used to go to his favorite (Bb)bookstores

(Dm)and rip out his favorite (Bb)pages,

(Gm)and stuff them into his breast pocket.

The moon, to him, was a (Bb)stranger.

(Dm)Now he sits down at the (Bb)table

(Dm)right next to the (Bb)window

(Gm)and begins his quiet (Bb)ascension

(Gm)without anyone's steady (Bb)instruction.

(Gm)To a place and no (Bb)religion,

(Gm)he's found a path to her alikeness.

And he eats a small lump (Bb)of sugar

(Gm)and smiles at the moon like he (C)knows her.