Lyrics:

Hay and a clean stall
And ivy on a garden wall
And a sign saying sold
And an old coat for the bad cold

I believe in you
Do you believe in me?
What do you want to do?
Are we leaving the city?

On the black road
Through the gold fields
While the fields are plowed
Towards what we are allowed

The bridle bends in idle hands
And slows your canter to a trot
We mean to stop in increments
But can’t commit, we post and sit in impotence

The harder you hit, the deeper the dent
We seek our name, we seek our fame
And our credentials, paned in glass
Trained to master incidentals
Bleach our collar, leach our dollar
From our cents
The longer you live, the higher the rent

Beneath the pale sky
Beside the red barn
Below the white clouds
Is all we are allowed

Here, the light will seep
And the scythe will reap
And spirit will rend
In counting toward the end

In December of that year
The word came down that she was here
The days grew shorter
I was sure if she came 'round
I’d hold my ground, I'd endure
But they'd alluded to a change
That came to pass
And spring, deranged, weeping grass and sleepless broke
Herself upon my windowglass

And I could barely breathe for seeing
All the splintered light that leaked
Her fissures fleeing, launched in flight
Unstaunched daylight, brightly bleeding
Bleached the night with dawn deleting
In that high sun after our good run
When the spirit bends
Beneath knowing it must end

And that is all I want here
To draw my gaunt spirit to bow
Beneath what I am allowed
Beneath what I am allowed