Howe Gelb Follow

It took him out of taxland
and into the fields of nether.
His skin soaked in the air there
and answered the return with "never".
There was always horses coming.
There was always a way to ride...
to leave the national debt ,
and ways of wires way behind.
It was real for him... and for her.
They'd meet by the field
where the crows all fled the earth.
And the kind of clothes they wore
were perfect for the rain....
hard leather for the downside...
wide brims for the brain.
There was always horses coming.
There was always a way to ride...
He never got her name
and she would never toss it twice.
They clung to what mattered
and drunk in the entice.
They loved the border lines,
and when they'd ruin for themselves,
they'd dance across the border
and drink again from fresh wells.
There was always horses coming.
There was always a way to ride...
What the man had left
might've been a coma or just sleep.
He might've left himself for dead,
now lives for the dream to keep.
Who and what she once was....
was written than erased.
Whether it had suited her heart,
now had absoluteley no place.
They were always horses coming.
Always another metal blue sky.
And plenty of love to soothe
when their thoughts would water their eyes.
There was always horses coming.
There was always a way to ride...