Last updated: 4 days ago
A lonesome busker and poet living in the forest with no concern for fame or fortune.
White lines and trees
An old rusty rig
Open sky
110, I prefer 80
Wind in a salty beard
Fire on the beach
Make the stops
Avoid the cops
Count the stars
Sing in bars
Teapot, Southern Cross
Count your wins, cut your loss
Road trains, road kill
Take it slow up the hill
Burnt trees, wild seas
New creeks, mountain peaks
A-frames, lefts, rights
Thank fuck for 80 bucks
A dinged up twin fin, just my luck
Full tank, empty tank
Power lines, kangaroo signs
Past the gong, to Bendalong
Write a poem, write a song
Sunset, sunrise
Yellow flowers, purple skies
Whatever tomorrow brings
I got steel strings
White lines and trees
An old rusty rig
Open sky
110, I prefer 80
Wind in a salty beard
Fire on the beach
Make the stops
Avoid the cops
Count the stars
Sing in bars
Teapot, Southern Cross
Count your wins, cut your loss
Road trains, road kill
Take it slow up the hill
Burnt trees, wild seas
New creeks, mountain peaks
A-frames, lefts, rights
Thank fuck for 80 bucks
A dinged up twin fin, just my luck
Full tank, empty tank
Power lines, kangaroo signs
Past the gong, to Bendalong
Write a poem, write a song
Sunset, sunrise
Yellow flowers, purple skies
Whatever tomorrow brings
I got steel strings
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