andrew furth

my four and twenty.

The sun just was not shining. Clouds was laughing too. I was looking for a cure, some junkyard broken groove. No birds flew off my shoulder. Overwhelming underneath. My torn up head then I fix it with my four and twenty

Fist up to the sky. Invincible and losing time. War torn people cry. For some twenty dollar high.

It’s not all right. Alive aint free. Everybody hurting. In the morning. We could all make it right with a little bit of four and twenty.