Martha Four

I sing the joy of praise, see the creep of moon, new horizons not always great, you say you have to go, like you play the fool, laugh like a bag of stones, not content with any place, or single line of truth, life is your going rate, you want to plough alone, not enough to ground you, no one still at home, but roads are never straight, even when lit Blue, trouble's still to rake, never a game of thrones, take me if you want to, but not as a loan, since I've been away, tried to find some glue, but each night pray, you'll find an avenue.