A 70's yellow sweater vest
Corduroy pants, a graying crest
A confident walk, a very plaid hat
This is Gordon Reeves
He has no home, he's here and there
Dislikes his past, but has not care
He changed his name to make it sound
dramatic, as is he
His dark brown skin is looking old
He was almost famous, so he told
Acted with the best, loved the stage
He convinced even me
He likes the quiet coffee shops
and without warning, begins to talk
He likes to find more sympathy
or help he can receive
Some turn their heads, try to ignore
But he'll keep trying, that I'm sure
He'll tell a story, or give advice
A web he intends to weave
His friendships are empty, only for gain
But that's part of the show, again and again
His acting gives him a chance for tomorrow
Let's hear it for Gordon Reeves!
He sleeps on their sofas, even their floors
Too proud for the shelter, so knocks door to door
He feeds on their kindness, poor steals from the poor
Until it is time to leave
No need for a job when it is so simple
His entire life will not cost him a nickel
He knows he should be famous but...
The world is against Mr. Reeves
The world that would not give him a chance
Will now pay for his circumstance
He may be knocking on your door
Some windy, autumn eve
A 70's yellow sweater vest
Corduroy pants, a graying crest
A confident walk, a very plaid hat
It will be Gordon Reeves
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