| Grazing peacefully on the plains of functionality
|
| And then suddenly breaking free, with snorting and fiery breath
|
| As if to run out of its own skin, it flies across the landscape
|
| When I’m alone
|
| It poses as a constant threat
|
| Merciful derelict
|
| Hands become thundering hooves
|
| Every which way I turn
|
| I can sense it creeping in
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild
|
| As a feral horse
|
| And it will gallop till its death
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild
|
| They smolder in the below
|
| Ready to shoot out of the ground
|
| Its as if I can see them all crash in epiphany
|
| One deafening deep combusting sound
|
| Hands become thundering hooves
|
| Every which way I turn
|
| I can sense it creeping in
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild
|
| As a feral horse
|
| And it will gallop till its death
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild
|
| Every which way I turn
|
| I can sense it creeping in
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild
|
| Every which way I turn
|
| I can sense it creeping in
|
| So stay a little while
|
| Before my thoughts go running wild |