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