Sink back into the Louve and broaden your mind
The winds of fortune will treat you kind.
With whiskey tears and tobacco blues,
You soldier through the valleys and dunes,
Finding the lost while discovering the new.
Thumb in the air, fingers clenched,
With windswept hair and muscles tensed.
What can you do but soldier on,
Towards the cities and forgotten farms,
To find a friend or lover for your arms.
Many miles lie ahead for the young and weary soul
Who sticks to his guns and goes after what he knows is right. For his path is not the same as we all might expect. The actor, poet, musician, the rambler, the free birds, the bastards of luck and happenstance; these are the soldiers of fortune that hide in the shadows of perseverance and await the glorious day that God will hand them when their time is due.
But what can we do
but soldier on.