Mustangs

wild horses, mustangs
galloping in the shadows
dark clouds form...teardrops
staining the pavement

o' the sirens have sung  
their songs, as the crimson tide
abides on the distant shores
as fate rolls those damned dice

the banshee she does moan
you can hear her sobbing
out on the moors, in the downpour
of scattered stones...lying
markers of graves laid for the brave

culling the heard
three times she will knock
on the cobblestone wall
on weathered wings...the crow will fly

wild horses, mustangs
galloping hard in the shadows
dark clouds form...teardrops
stain the pavement