A Black Horse (The Garden Song)

Eyes that vanquish a loving light 

Leer at the seeds of darkness, 

Broken and clambered in dusty hands 

Planted in the palms of iris 

Damn ye devils of twisted groves 

Tugging at the mountains of madness, 

A lonely fool, clinging ever to, 

Dreams that sow in silence. 

A place most foul, where the soil is frail 

Rooted deep down memory lane, 

Where wilted petals of sun-dried cries 

Wither for tomorrow's rain; 

O' muddied tracks of sordid past 

Harvest fields of yesterdays

On clay ground 

Great earth has faltered 

Yielding to decay, 

And with its blight 

Bearing barren pastures 

Its dirt awash en flame, 

To till its land by hooves that led 

Famine: The Horseman's name.