There's a clown with his happy face,
And he's standing all alone,
Next to a dumpster in the alley-way,
Perhaps he should have painted a frown.

A young cowboy stands in Central Park,
He can't help but think of home,
Riding the fence and herding stock,
He knows that city life is over-blown.

The soldier rides the Merry-Go-Round,
And looks in the crowd for her,
But soon the sound of mortar rounds,
Causes him to toss and turn.

The pastor orders another round,
Some whiskey to ease the pain,
He confesses his sins to the tonic and gin,
And knows that his soul is stained.

Please, Mister, please tell me,
Where I can find a man without any flaws,
Please show me a man of virtue,
Who stays forever true to his cause.

For we have all failed on our journey,
In spite of what our intentions might be,
And our souls are scarred with sins of the road;
The road to eternity.