Hobo's Prayer

Under br[D]idges, beneath trestles, in the boxcars of dead trains
L[Bm]ivin' to beat the cold, of the pourin' drivin' rain
A si[D]lent society moves out in the night
Ragged r[Bm]ebels, homeless hobos, and those like [C]me,[F] who've lost the l[D]ight.

Saint Pe[D]ter is a prophet, to all the hobo world
An ex[Bm]pert on everything, from caviar to girls
I m[D]et him west of Memphis, on the eighth of July
He ha[Bm]nded me a can of beans, a[C]nd a ru[F]sty k[D]nife.

And he said "Ev[F#m]erything out h[G]ere ain't what it se[D]ems
And w[F#m]hen you're down to no[G]thin' just [D]go ahead and dr[A]eam
And face the f[D]act that you're a circle, in a world full of squares,
Tradin' so[F]rrows for tom[C]orrows, that's the hobo's pr[D]ayer.

Mother Mary is a lady, from down in New Orleans
She's seen a lot of livin', since she was seventeen,
She said "I'm bona fide and worldly wise, with original parts,
'Cept for what set me to travellin', I'm talkin' about my heart"

She said "I can spot a broken heart from twenty miles away.
So are you passin' through, or have you come to stay?"
"You're runnin' from a woman", she said with a grin,
"So what've you got to say?" And I said: "I am a Pilgrim"

Where everything out here ain't what it seems
And when I'm down to nothin' I just go ahead and dream
And face the fact that I'm a circle, in a world full of squares
Tradin' sorrows for tomorrows, and that's the hobo's prayer.