Headed West

My mind is on the tracks, my friend
My trumpet’s blown its course
And heaven forgive, I’m headed west
It’s the way of the sun and the source
I’ve drummed from bounty’s brimming cup
I’ve supped the luck I’m due
And with timeliness and fire afoot
Go ask my marching crew

— Fol-de-rol, Johnny Flynn

plane wingtip and clouds photo

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