i look for him in everywhere

in everywhere i found him not

exhausted i sleep in steppe



in the dream my gray horse spoke to me

find me neath the killing cliff

find me neath the killing cliff



hang my skull on the old larch tree

carve from its wood a two string fiddle

cover over with the skin of my face

string my hair down the neck in place



weave together anger and grief

bow down bow down and sing

i will return through you



strong and gray on mountain high

his black and white faces go running by



strong and gray on mountain high

he come with herd black faces wild