I dream of horses, Wild and Free.
I feel the herd that surrounds me.
Like thunder are there hoof beats, Like lightning are there eyes,
the storm never dies.
A gunshot sounds, a rustler makes his rounds.
Being caught, the stallion fights for all his life.
His fear cuts through him like a barbed knife.
He breaks from the rope, again free to run, once again, his Herd is one.
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