John Four

I throw away the years, every age has its past, the laughs and happy tears, no life is too short, for those you trust, within our toil of waters, you run like the deer, with a smell of musk, hazy bars you step clear, I knew I’d be caught, spinning pennies in the dust, am overawed, on what brought me here, bathed on this tidal flood, for you to be sincere, no book or district Court, hides the fact I’m bust, what I sought, blows flame across my fears, brings me all the luck, hopes before you disappear, riding on the dusk.