Workhorse Lyrics

Born a mass of concave back

Muted mule, a workhorse racked

And riddled ticks with Lyme disease

I dragged my cart o'er land and seas

And O, my heart, my unsteady heart

It groans and strains and does its part

Away, away, a body in plight

Adorned with bones and fraught with fright

And lullabies are meant to confound

Shut down a man seldom profound.

Beaten to a stand still

Refracted corpse stands and delivers

Whimper of a tether

Nine syllables tell the tale of loss

But raising broken necks is possible with effort

Groaning against lanyards wrought from stubbornness and feline traits

And dragging arrow-quivered carcass upright in the blood sun

Wind for sails caught in the heat can keep a hot blaze

And carry me to summits where the outstretched valley welcomes home

The son it called its own with tales of atrophy and endurance.

The mountains and the rushing creek will be a priory

Where unloved monsters lay their heads and finally succumb to peace

Dreaming of their days of power wandering the desert sand and

Bringing me back home

To lay my head on tender stones

Feel the weight slough from my brow

Be a kin to Jack and sleep

And murder fret in the serene

Shuffle bones in the antique

And find my father in the dark