| The Stallion, Pt. 4 |
|---|
| Look there up above the hill, over the mountain |
| With lights from its holy lips and blood from the stallion |
| We talk of ancient scripts, its soul from the master |
| Sent to do no harm, far from — from disaster |
| I raised my hand up high, Boognish was looking onward |
| Said thy words shall now be done even move forward |
| Gazing at his spongy eye, I gasp in all it’s glory |
| It’s tongue was made by putting forth |
| the end of the story |
