Whiskey Man

On the road, off to nowhere,

Mind though still, but blown away,

With the vision to reach somewhere,

Along with the wind he sways.

Life, make him as you, wise,

Let in him the late sun rise,

Where does he find, all that he's lost?

Rinse within, the awful costs.

Watch him stroll in the distance,

Ladies call him the 'Whiskey Man'

Holy book in pocket, arms towards inlet,

Not long before he's a roadside can.

Free as the waves, quick as the falcon,

Strength of hooves, mild as a pigeon.

Such great a pal, understands every emotion,

What misery he, without any potion.

Gone is he now, come back will he?

Happens if it, what face will he be?

Upon various readings, he blankly may roam,

In peace, pray, be he at home.