So, who's this Old Lost John really? Nobody knows for sure. He's been out there, it seems, as long as anyone can remember. Deep dark eyes, long grey beard, always hummin' a tune or blowing his sad harmonica. That's how some people would picture him. Somewhere in that odd little cabin outside that small town you've passed a thousand times heading north without ever noticing its real name.
He could be any John you or I ever known, or never known. John the Baptist crossing the boundaries of time and history. John the Revelator, caught in his vision, remaining on earth until its fulfillment. Anyone or everyone of countless John Does lost in war, in flames, beneath the waves of the mighty ocean. Anyone of the John Smiths checkin' into hotels hiding their true identity. Perhaps you'll even find a tiny marrow of yourself within his bones, holding his body upright through the lives of man.
That's one story. Of course, there's another story as well... My name is Tomas. I used to be a woodsman and a horse-keeper. These days I live in Malmo, Sweden, delivering newspapers in the morning hours and writing songs every now and then. Old Lost John is the name of my musical vehicle.