We bring the horses back to their own fields because we like
To see them among purple hay as if they signify black seeds
A hoof can break any kind of feeling along a dramatic stretch
The gate is where I go to then proclaim my woes to his street
And ask him pointed questions like I’m in the Roman Senate
Imagine me among the morning glory wretched ’n’ bothered
But I should listen to my cornflake box anthropology degree
Everyone doesn’t have to be the same way like Keats’ eagle
Are you are or are you aren’t care you care or care you can’t
Having favourites is the same as being dead or a coincidence
When I wake up first thing I reach for is a streaming service

Because that’s the nicest fruit when it’s got sugar on it and
That is why it should control your life and sense of purpose
Let it be changeable and not what Romans say so musically
They don’t actually have a great rep except according to them
And no blame on a village for accepting too much Spanish
Influence or a weak music culture that bowed down to trade
Agreements we can’t really hear that song with its tales of
Canadian schoolgirls and boys who don’t understand mixed
Messages this cake is a message too of seeds amid yellow
Fruit we don’t want to burn the air more than we have to so
No candles listen the car’s still in the garage and the horses

Probably dead because fifty years goes by in a flash so few
Lifetimes actually since Captain Cook e.g. and he had his
Issues leaving school at thirteen thirsty for maps and blood
Read you is or read you aint readn’t you can or readn’t you
Cain’t he could have made better sense of his timing though
When we were together and unlucky to be standing at a pew
Evading one reality through singing another the icing always
On the other shoe I could hear the horses entering through
Gates of the future where music had circulated and returned
What was a lie looked not at all now a provocation in the sky
But rather truth playing keyboards with a mane for a vine