|
She had four white stallions coming around the bend |
|
Four strong angels at her command ascend |
|
Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
|
And I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again |
|
She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure |
|
Carved by an artist, whose hand is demure |
|
Got a mind like a sabre, razor sharp and sure |
|
And God how I hate myself for still wanting her |
|
Damn these nights of dreaming, vision soft and sure |
|
Now I'll wait to find there's nothing left of me and her |
|
Nothing more than a heart still at war |
|
She had four white stallions coming up around the bend |
|
Four strong angels already sent |
|
Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
|
She had four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
|
And I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again |
