When April ends, a strange breed of horses
flood this town of tranquility and peace
An anxious band of disruption will shake
the night and confuse the day
New rhythms are recorded over the defiled memories

Wiling horses, with scents of apricot
Bend for us
The lilies plead, Dandilions implore
Bend for us

Houses are as mute as the coming of morning
Nature is as still as porcelein fingers
If only our heads werent so dizzy and our tarsals so sore
Would we be able to think
Restlessly, yet quietly

Stripped us of decency, did you horses
Bend for us
The lilies plead, Dandilions implore
Bend for us

In these soothing days of rough depictions of future
Now cradled in the sweet aromas of morning flowers and poetry
How Aprils fine script becomes caked with May's sour ink
The blades of grass and slender lilies beckon for a softer wind
The muddy ponds and the silver lakes lust for a better time
And we are hungry

As we will swoon over this hostile call
bend for us
Glory is glory if yours is wanton
bend for us

Yet the horses standing dry hold their heads high
and trample the bitter leaves
The trees have grown shy while its branches grow dry
The dry blades have bended,the lilies can't be mended
roses are wilting, shadows grow large
The wind wanders the world like a restless spirit
The dust is now what flies

And we are wondering
why?
And we are wondering
why?
And we are wondering pondering
Why?