Into the cloudy dark night

Into the cloudy dark night

 

 

 

 

A storm was brewing on the horizon,

in the light of each thunders flash the skeletons of long dead riders could be seen,

riding closer.

 

Eyes glowed hot with the devils fire,

sulfur drifted from dark cavernous nostrils.

 

Whips pressed the dark angel’s mounts to ride hard,

as a trail of fire blazed behind them.

 

Suddenly one of the devils riders reared his stead,

my soul burned with fear as he looked into my soul,

searching for the evil that buried deep within me.

 

He looked deep into my bones,

he drew his whip back and struck at the ground next to me,

deep in the hole made from his whip lay a fiery whip with my name branded on the handle.

 

He looked to see if I would pick it up,

a stead stood prancing waiting for me to mount it,

I looked away in shame.

 

The stead prances on the horizon of each full moon,

and the whip lay wrapped in the skin of the dead,

both wait for the night I will use them.

 

One day the whip, rider, and stead shall join to ride the range,

to catch the devils heard.

 

Each full moon I am drawn to the whip and the stead,

in shame I pull back,

for I know once touched,

I can never go back.

 

On the anniversary of that night the riders visit,

hoofs burn with the devils fire,

forsaken souls ride hard in search of the devils heard.

 

Off in the distance I hear my name called,

through ghostly voices wrapped in the shadow of a full moon.

 

Called with blood and tainted souls,

as the devils heard rides by.

 

They know and smell my soul,

and the taste of the whip wrapped in the skin of the dead.

 

Was it their mournful cries that struck my heart and soul.

Was it the charge of the riders that called to me?

 

Ride forever was the cry given,

in search of the devils heard.

 

Sell your soul to catch the devils heard.

 

The mournful cry was the sound that only one person heard,

shirts soaked with sweat,

blood dripped from their hands,

whips dug deep in the hides of their mounts.

 

Ride with the devils riders and you will never know,

peace in your heart.

 

That’s the price they all pay,

some good and others bad,

but they have all given their souls to ride on that range.

 

When the riders call you to their cause,

it’s because you have a darkness that they and you know,

only they can forgive you,

and your only reprise is to join them,

on that full moon.

 

So take the whip the mount and the stead,

and ride forever in search of the devils heard.

 

Author's Note