There's a village with an old man several hundred miles from here
Always leaves his front door open for the creatures who appear
Everyday he sits beside them, listens to their every qualm
Never loses his momentum as he listens to their song
Secretly he keeps a record of the struggles they reveal
Every night he shuffles through them with a gentle-handed feel
And he sips his cup of coffee for some momentary strength
To embolden his empathy and enable to erase
The old man sighed and wiped his sweaty brow
He closed his eyes though he tried to disallow
His troubled mind was filled with every trial
And by design, he helped them reconcile
In the morning when he wakes up there's a crowd within his house
So he tiptoes down the hallway quiet as a field mouse
And a floorboard creaks below him, making his heart skip a beat
Soon appears a line before him, as they bow down at his feet
He softly smiles and presents an open palm
Once in a while he gives a subtle nod
And one by one, he examines their lifestyle
And by design, he helps them reconcile
As he looks over the valley several hundred feet below
He can't help but ask the question, why his heart is filled with woe
What would happen if I left them with a crassly worded note
Of my sudden resignation and a worldly anecdote
If only you'd foresee the error of your ways
Instead of always looking back
Then maybe you'd kindly improve your sorry lives
And keep yourself on track
The old man shook his head now as he wandered back inside
And he wiped his sweaty eyebrow while he poured a glass of wine
And he wrinkled up the paper that contained his heady claim
And he threw it in the fire as he stoked the steady flames
So he carried on the next day with a sedentary style
As he listened to the creatures who would walk a thousand miles
To hear his words of guidance and to see his brimming smile
As he listened to their troubles and he helped them reconcile