Dripping blood on a marble floor,
Horses hooves smearing those,
Paint, paint these images before they fade,
Gone in those mopping blades,
Bleeding stone, is it?
Heartless it was, wasn't it?
Straining against these constraints,
Entangled in the bushes of hell,
Stop it I say,
Break these chains,
Be a free stallion again!
Horses hooves smearing those,
Paint, paint these images before they fade,
Gone in those mopping blades,
Bleeding stone, is it?
Heartless it was, wasn't it?
Straining against these constraints,
Entangled in the bushes of hell,
Stop it I say,
Break these chains,
Be a free stallion again!