In another life, I was your wide-running pony.
You think I just gallop and that I don’t pray.
You think that all living goes just one direction
The wreath round my neck never gets in the way.
Make me know the cold air is coming.
Make me lope in the darkness with snow on my face.
Make me believe that I have no master.
So I’ll never seek one.
I saw the bridge, but I went in the water.
I wanted it harder, I wanted the way
The rainy river keeps pushing against me
Crumbles the wreath and spreads seeds with thickening pace.
I am ready. The real cold is coming.
Let me open my mouth and sing with the breeze.
Count crows and directions and wait for an answer
Crumble the living for dead leaves.
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