Robert Three

What it means to try, outside the pale, no use trying to lie, in your bones, who needs a trial, to find yourself alone, you look at the time, other measured trails, it seems a while, you think you can atone, when love fails, and someone asks you home, flip a coin see the sky, talk of finding sail, it sometimes ends this way, drink wine out of cones, must be some good mail, throw stones at ghosts, no worse than jail, forsake the stars at night, hit the shining rails, praise bright smiles.