Death of the Wild
Horses love to run.
Dont shoot them with a gun.
Its not a game its not fun.
Make them catch up with the sun.
Though the ground hold their feet.
Listen to his wild heart and hear the beat.
Let him go dont put shackles on his meat.
Let the wind ride and never cheat.
Gallop thru the winter.
Melt this heart its bitter.
Escape this metal gates he is a dreamer.
The wind calls him to run on water.
I will go there at the top.
I will run till my feet drop.
I'll leave my body onto nap.
My spirit will continue going up.