High Horses
Think of the life up there
Living long but knowing that you'll never
Breathe the warm blend of dirt and bread on a city morning street
You know I've heard them laugh, but they never get along
Just like the hombres on the bottle
When the sound dies, you see their eyes and they're all staring at their feet
Until they round em up
Going town to town on high horses
Should I sit and drink and feel sorry for myself?
No let's hit the hills, until we hear the sound of old voices
And we'll come to be on a high horse of our own
Yeah we'll come to be on a high horse of our own
This border's all reversed,
All the guards should be facing north, not the Bienvenidos
From 2 to 5, they stole our lives while we were sleeping in the shade
We've got to bring it back
To a time when there was no time that we spoke of
Now all we do, is do what they do, and so we think we've got it made
Until they round em up . . .
Incendiary visionaries, point them to the north
We're not feeling very missionary-friendly anymore
We've all grown wary, of Virgin Mary pinned on every door
We're not feeling very missionary-friendly anymore
We should round em up
Going town to town on their high horses
Let them sit and drink and feel sorry for themselves
Yeah, let's hit the hills, where we can hear the sound of our own voices
And we'll come to be on a high horse of our own
(Orale! Vamos a caballos!)
We'll come to be on a high horse of our own
Vamos a caballos!
We'll come to be on a high horse of our own
Autor(es): DAVID MAYO VON BECK