Counting Crows — Four White Stallions

She had four white stallions coming around the bend Four strong angels at her command descend Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure Carved by an artist whose hand is demure Got a mind like a saber, razor sharp and sure And God, how I hate myself for still wanting her Damn these nights of dreaming visions soft and sure Now I awake to find there's nothing left of me and her Nothing more than a heart still at war She had four white stallions coming up around the bend Four strong angels already sent Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend She had four more seasons for all that's broken to mend And I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again