Jokerman Poem by M. Scott Cooper

Everyone's a mad man, no one's really here at all
if anyone would stop and listen, I don't think they'd wanna stick around
there's a devious joker with a wild and painted face
a grin that'd be haunting if it wasn't so plain
a shriek marching slowly from his mouth, crawling deeper into your mind
relentless it hops through the memory of an untainted stream
veiling all with a dark and stinking cloud
careless it sweeps through an almost forgotten vision
of the backyard swing on the elder elm tree
I can hardly remember the feelings I felt
from the crystallized moment when I was so young
looking up from the kitchen table at the emperor swan
and closing my eyes to the warm securities with mama
and soon enough I'll not recall poor Cocoa's eyes
as she lay content and unaware of time's ultimate deceit
yes, the jokerman must wash these old feelings out
dampen the sacred fires burning in the minds of you and I
a painting whose beauty the eye could never understand
made with the blood of life, only to be cast away like a shredded flyer
undone like a forgotten civilization
or broken like a promise you knew you could never keep
maybe someday they'll speak of you briefly, before moving on
but they'll never know what treasure was won and lost
as the joker dragged you through the smoldering, muddied ash
and maybe today they'll insist that you walk down that stony path
which winds and disappears into the swirling dark abyss
I know you were never one to follow leaders
but maybe it's worth something more
to have a belief