The Man at the Table

I am the man at the table I wear an old suit without labels My old guitar bothers the waiter My coins in neat piles on the table My eyes on the yellow page The same words I've read for ages About the mellow man Who sat down when everyone ran Many have called me unstable They say I am lost in a fable Ambition makes such blurry pictures It gnaws away at your convictions Now the only things I really need Are the sun, a place to sit, a tree The only thing I really want Is silence before the hunt I'm many tiny bits That don't always seem to fit Tied together by a thread A small breeze can tear me to shreds I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere, I'm home I'm nowhere home I'm nowhere, I'm home I walk out and still have no label My coins in the hand of the waiter You didn't even notice I faded 'Cause I was just a man at a table