I am The Man on the White Horse
Who rides through your dreams,
The bells on my bridle clanging
Like shattered tambourines,
And my right hand is a banjo
And my left hand is a pick
And I bring them both together
In a fast Cajun lick
And I probe in your mind
Reach deep in your head
Searching always searching
Until you wish you were dead.
I am The Man on the White Horse
You created as your way
To sort out your thoughts
At the end of your day.
And my left hand is a violin,
And my right hand is a bow,
And I bring them together
For something sweet and low;
And your fear eases
And you gently sigh
To the soft slow strains
Of my sweet lullaby.
I am The Man on the White Horse
Whose mane is running wet
From absorbing your fears
And night's terror sweats.
And I am moving backwards,
Or so to you it seems,
As you rise back to life
From confusion of your dreams.
And both my hands are normal
As we fade to nowhere
For you to face your new day
Free at last from your nightmares.
