Horse Race

Time moves a summer wind, Through a pasture of wild stallions, I lean on the wooden gate, Brushing my hair back, And watch the shadows, They cast on the green… A flick of the head, A stamp of the feet, Calling me with trumpet eyes, ‘till I too am fenced in and bet, sweat beads down the crowd’s faces, as the reins cut through our lives… Wild stallions race in madness, Feeding on oats of the human ego, Sleeping in their gambling sins, We dream the same thing, We want the same thing, Running away to stables of salvation…