Dead Horses - Landmine Marathon

Some will say the horses are all dead

Each horse dead in its tracks

Their insides filled with black tar

Bloated bellies filled with your teeth

Exiled son

Your neck in blood

The colour of maggots under your bed

Knees bent in and skin unwrapped

Stake in each eye a symbol of self-hate

If you leave now this day will pass

Stories by the fire light

Will make his flesh creep

An idiot for a son that shudders in fear

Abandoned for murders in haste

Churchyards draw him near

A sexton comes on pillars of white

Dead from falls in churchyard streets

Waiting the wife will weep

Cast out at the dawn of day

Do not speak of your father

You are unwanted

And you should die

Do not speak of your future

You will have none

And you should die

Only sleep under the trees hanging with the youth

Soon your neck will bleed

Steal the bottom of their soles