There's a black horse in a photograph, his mane blows in your face.There's a black horse in a photograph, his mane blows in your face.Your eyes are hidden, will you be taken away?Black and white feathers blow across the lawn.Black and white feathers blow across the lawn.The dog's sleeping on them, the scaffold is already done.We're hiding in the hills, the road hasn't snapped yet.Feels like I could live forever, forever hasn't happened yet.The shadow of black birds, as many as in a pie.The shadow of black birds, as many as baked in a pie.Passes over your burning head, as you prepare to die.
