The Eldest of Sylvia's Daughters
Lies Still in the Earth Below,
On the Edge of a Small Town Graveyard,
Where They Never Even Mow.
...
Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
...
By daylight,
we reconcile the numbers,
or smelling of grease,
turn burgers
...
I enjoy the nuance of creatures
How horses resolve not to lie
The soul of the equine is blatant
when you look in the depth of its eye
...