Another white horse just rode by. I guess I saw him comin’
I felt him breathin’ down my neck, I heard his hoofbeats drummin’.
I’ve seen ‘em pass this way before. They mark the separation
Of mossy horns from yearlin’ bucks. Each one’s a generation.
I saw one pass at seventeen, at thirty-five and fifty They rode by loud and brave and bold or snuck by sly and shifty.
They had no time to stop…