Draft Horse In the Furnace

Most pain comes from something we've lost like a life or a love- or a favorite dog how to deal with the harshness of ghosts, we plow on we must plow on. Will you crawl to a cave and wither away or sit in the sun - repair wings of your faith do you search for things to fill in the space but you can't bring what's dead back into life death by far owns the deepest of pits so we tap salt and asphalt into the abyss and plow on we must plow on. Each loss forms a wall of asps in the mind snapping wildly at sanity and hobbling stride- Will you proudly wear pain like a soldier of medal and scar, or cover it up in bottle capped alleys but we plow on we must plow on. We're just draft horses working the rocky fields of life, the whips forever cracking in the foyer of the mind steel backs bowing to the fierce furnace of time but we must plow on we must forever plow on.