Wings Wetted Down
Flights of black horsemen soar over churches,
Pursued by an army of birds in the rain.
None of them can see the clouds, the polished wings don't care,
Animal waves through the hazy dreams full of pain.

Wings wetted down, stumbling on the ground,
It all turns around...in the end.

The voices sound deadly, sometimes I hear
Echoes of vampires, spread throughout the sky.

Wings wetted down, stumbling on the ground,
It all turns around...in the end.

Flights of black horseman soar over churches,
Pursued by an army of birds in the rain.

Wings wetted down, it all turns around,
It all turns around...in the end.

from Tyranny and Mutation, 1973