Story of Finn

High Noon, move into these half beaten paths.

The sun, reaches the highest point of the day.

Tired horse, rest upon the tall oak tree.

Leather vest, holding tight rolled marijuana joints.

There is a moment in time a man has to come to terms with a bad situation, he is either searching anew or waiting out the storm.

From my eyes it’waves of bluegrass. Red Cedar towering over the rolling hills. Cardinals singing after a scattered rain,long haul locomotives leaving trail of steam,when I reach that lake water I’ll be settling down.

Late evening,found an old motel with a bygone aura.

Backyard barn,highwayman’s hitch for my trusty steed.

Next morning, my sights is to get to you.

My guitar,strings stretched on hollow body.

There is a moment in time a man has to come to terms with a bad situation, he is either searching anew or waiting out the storm.

From my eyes it’waves of bluegrass. Red Cedar towering over the rolling hills. Cardinals singing after a scattered rain,long haul locomotives leaving trail of steam,when I reach that lake water I’ll be settling down.

Cumberland gap still leaves the scent of cologne and weed I left. Made an epitaph for my dear ol horse and chewing gum from the roadside motel.