Landmine Marathon
Dead Horses
Some will say the horses are all deadEach horse dead in its tracksTheir insides filled with black tarBloated bellies filled with your teethExiled sonYour neck in bloodThe colour of maggots under your bedKnees bent in and skin unwrappedStake in each eye a symbol of self-hateIf you leave now this day will passStories by the fire lightWill make his flesh creepAn idiot for a son that shudders in fearAbandoned for murders in hasteChurchyards draw him nearA sexton comes on pillars of whiteDead from falls in churchyard streetsWaiting the wife will weepCast out at the dawn of dayDo not speak of your fatherYou are unwantedAnd you should dieDo not speak of your futureYou will have noneAnd you should dieOnly sleep under the trees hanging with the youthSoon your neck will bleedSteal the bottom of their soles
From Letras Mania