Robert Four

What it means to try, within a screaming gale, no use trying to lie, in your bones, who needs a trial, to find yourself alone, you look at the time, your measures fail, it seems a while, you think you can atone, when love trails, and someone asks you home, flip a coin see the sky, talk of finding sail, it always ends this way, drink wine from a broken cone, must be some good mail, throw stones at ghosts, it's worse than jail, forsaken beyond what's right, you hit the rails, on that lonely mile.