(Words - GA Johnson) None of us are what we were/I know you've heard this all before/I know you've heard this all before but none of us are what we were/But it's a dark age, a dangerous time/I'm on the last page, the end of the line/But it's a dark age, a dangerous time/I'm on the last train, the end of the line/Outside the bar on the road to the Madrid, a curious frost settled down on my ribs/These were the badlands, the sad lands/I wanted to leave but I wanted to give/Whispered in song in the tops of the trees, "Tears are the only rain that we see"/Whispered in song in the tops of the trees, "Tears are the only rain that we see"/I get up too late to wave off the night/ I get up too late to wave off the night DARK HORSES (Words - GA Johnson) When you're preoccupied, like a moth with the light, we are 'sacking your life; we are bleeding your pipes. When you're hooked by the line, by the crook of your spine, we are sparking the knives; we are Frankenstein. When you're preoccupied by the junk of your life, we are marking your card, we are catching off-guard. When you're thanking the Lord for the fat of your land, we are cutting the cord; we are back of the hand. Our love is the love of the loveless. Our tears are the tears of the bird. Our side is the side