Hay and a clean stall

And ivy on a garden wall

And a sign saying sold

And an old coat for the bad cold

I believe in you

Do you believe in me?

What do you wanna do?

Are we leaving the city?

On the black road

Through the gold fields

While the fields are plowed

Towards what we are allowed

The bridle bends in idle hands

And slows your canter to a trot

We mean to stop in increments

But can't commit, we post and sit in impotence

The harder you hit, the deeper the dent

We seek our name, we seek our fame

And our credentials, paned in glass

Trained to master incidentals

Bleach our collar, leach our dollar

From our cents

The longer you live, the higher the rent

Beneath the pale sky

Beside the red barn

Below the white clouds

Is all we are allowed

Here, the light will seep

And the scythe will reap

And spirit will rend

In counting toward the end

In December of that year

The word came down that she was here

The days grew shorter

I was sure if she came 'round

I'd hold my ground, I'd endure

But they'd alluded to a change

That came to pass

And spring, deranged, weeping grass and sleepless broke

Herself upon my windowglass

And I could barely breathe for seeing

All the splintered light that leaked

Her fissures fleeing, launched in flight

Unstaunched daylight, brightly bleeding

Bleached the night with dawn deleting

In that high sun after our good run

When the spirit bends

Beneath knowing it must end

And that is all I want here

To draw my gaunt spirit to bow

Beneath what I am allowed

Beneath what I am allowed