4+20 (1:55)

Words & Music by Stephen Stills

© 1970 by Gold Hill Music, Inc.



Four and Twenty years ago

I come into this life,

Son of a woman

And a man who lived in strife.

He was tired of being poor

But he wasn't into selling door to door

And he worked like a devil to be more.



A different kind of poverty now upsets me so

Night after sleepless night

I walk the floor and want to know

Why am I so alone?

Where is my woman, can I bring her home?

Have I driven her away?

Is she gone?



Morning comes the sunrise,

And I'm driven to my bed

I see that it is empty 

And there's devils in my head.

I embrace the many colored beast.

I grow weary of the torment

Can there be no peace?

And I find myself just wishing that my life would simply cease.