still the horsemen may come

The weight of a phantom horn
is more than forgetting it isn't there.
the rain comes soon, it can tell
so the horsemen may come,
one, two, three, four.

This horn is what speaks when I say,
"no, you don't want to talk to her now."
"trust me on this. that other path is dangerous."
its hard to know exactly what it tells
still the horsemen may come,
one, two, three, four.

Guidance in a sense that isn't there
surely, it must be followed at all costs
even if the web is tangled
and not a single piece fits into the puzzle
I can't tell if the horsemen are coming,
ad pestem, famem, mortem, et ad bellum.