Besedila: Current 93. Horsey.

horses are riding into her arms
she lost her own way years ago
her sister calls her from the far side of night
and she falls with that call

it's the only way out
she tells me i love you
but it's only a game
so she slides through the silence
she's fixing her time
to fall back into darkness
again with a smile
don't touch me i'm falling
she laughs in the night
don't touch me i shall return
when the wheel comes around
you see we're all born to suffer
we're all born to fall
in a grey-shaded world
that calls us to zero

her mother's mouth slits
her father lies taken
she touches my body
but i crouch up to die
down the ramblas we're walking
in Reykjavik we're talking
the snow is moon-cold
the roof freezes over
she's reading a book
she finished it years ago
she's tearing up paper
she's tearing up life
but she only starts thinking
when her blood is brown

gold is the colour she promised me she'd wear
but Christ's blood turns black
his body she bears
when she dips him in waters
confession of faith
it's hard to believe you
when you spit in my face
and i don't want to touch you
i don't want to lie
in the brown red gold slumber
that you've taken to ride

i remember i was thinking
only of you
but you shattered me nightly
you broke all your oath
i found myself falling
and there
and there
and then
through the ruins of this parched life
and the pain of the next one
i said fucking over
all of this is shit
but still the wind calls
imperium

when you rage at the conqueror you only rage at yourself
when you torture the anointed you torture yourself
and you've listened to Piaf but not to the Christ
so you sparkle for seconds then dissolve into mist
the fog closes in and you think about Crowley
you think it's a game
but the game is just you
when shall you stop hiding in the heart of your night
when the cold trapway beckons
when the cold trapway stops
and Christ i was thinking of your bended arm
it's blue on the inside
it's blue on the outside
you said and then buckled as if you might die
there's no point in living
there's no point in life

and sometimes i hear you at the back of my mind
and a golden door opens but no light appears
there's spit on the bridle and there's blood on the saddle
and you slip in the shit you've shat in yourself
and Christus is Equus and Equus is Lord
and his name flies with fury and the wind cuts through you
you following footsteps that shed by a flower
then i wanted to hold you but you're destined to fall