The Rip (Portishead)

As she walks in the room--centered and torn--hesitating once more
as I take on myself (and the bitterness I felt)
I realize that love lost.

Wild white horses, they will take me away
and the tenderness I feel
will send the dog home to me. 
Will I follow?

Through the glory of life, I will scatter them on the floor. 

Disappointed and sore,
in my thoughts I have bled from the riddles I've been fed.

Another Light Moves Over

 

 

Wild white horses, they will take me away
and the tenderness I feel
will send the dog home to me.
Will I follow?

ba da pa pa . . .

She's the phantom of my bleeding heart;

the death of all things new.

. . . I'll come back to this. I promise.