I feel something coming on A disease or a song Call the captain, long gone
We warmed our hands in the corpse of a wild horse On the shores of Assateague And then blood on our hands up to our elbows At least we’re all in this horse together
I feel something coming on A disease or a song Call the captain, long gone
And the wooden nickel we took In the divorce of rider and corpse Was by the book It’s a habit of force Straight from the source And by the book
Every way, every day Every way, every day I feel something coming on