Happy is the man who knows he's not alone

In all the ways that I am broken
I have spoken, I have spoken
I am just like she,
Only were were given different tokens
Different tickets to the show
Some are on the front seats
Others the back row
But we're all sitting
In front of the silver screen
While the actors are getting ready to go

In all the ways that I am broken I can count
Like the vertebrae of my spine
Like a column with a block out of place
Like a row of beans out of line
The tree trunk got damaged in the storm
From then on it never grew straight no more
No matter all the pins and nails, or rubberbands they tried
It was always blowing in the gales

Its roots went down into the ground
Deep like a miner for gold or oil
Deeper still but for the echo found
No living man could count the toil

If all the pillars of Rome have stood
Then why can't my own column stand for some good?
No matter if no hero is perched on its plinth
There is instead a migrant
Who won't move an inch

They blew up the fortune factory,
But the joke was on them
When the cookies crumbled
And they found all the chinese had invaded
The uninvited guest, the uninvited guest
Now we stare into the future
Of all these Christmases past
And remember ever suture
Of every promise sewn to last
And every man who put me here
In this never ending hour glass
Still in Rome
The ruined columns are still standing
or resting in the wild grass