Wild horses still run through my veins,
Moonlight drips on the rust of your name;
I traded the reins for a mouthful of sky,
But the dust of your goodbye keeps following.
Breakdown sirens sing lullabies sweet,
Steel strings bleed where the blacktop and memory meet;
If I sprint till the sunrise shatters the night,
Will the ghosts lose stride, will the sparks still bite?
Gallop, gallop—don’t look behind;
Freedom’s a fever that burns in rewind.