The lonely hiss of passing carsWhite's voice, so calm it's almost eerie, is the only possible guide to his weird and wonderful vision.
Feeds the ache of ancient scars,
Like ghosts beneath my bed rattling chains.
No good luck charm or remedy
Ever proved to soothe my sanity
Nor bad medicine served to ease my pain.
Last time home when I played this song,Well, yeah, maybe ... but that's its glory.
You said, "Dad, it's sad, and way too long."