Seeds of despair have been sewn into fields Of sorrow. A thoughtful reminder of what remains Dead. Unburied. Laid unto the ground.
Black Horses, they’ve come to take me away. And the loneliness I feel washes up and over me. Black Horses they’ve come to take me away.
I tremble in fear, before the marching of hooves. In a tide of black they stormed across the fields To plow the seeds of hate, that have grown so deep In my soul.
Harvest this land, reap what you have sewn weather it hatred or sorrow. Harvest this land, reap what you have sewn weather it hatred or sorrow. Joy or life.