All The Good Horses

I'm riding in boxes To a place in the sky There's a floor above the ceiling Of the island in my eye I'm keeping my money And keeping you in my mind I've been waiting unwanted, unspared and alive It's all the good horses In graves of dead men Litigating our divorces And they hate all our friends A harness of corset Wrapped tight round my head My mouths getting hungry For the hand its been fed My mouths getting hungry For the hand its been fed The grounds been shaking Like the fists of the rich At the feet of the broken Like scratching an itch it can't fix I'm down in the gutter Feeling dead and getting stiff And the clouds have been cryin' While the suits have been throwin' fits It's all the good horses In graves of dead men They litigate our divorces And they hate all our friends A harness of corset Wrapped tight round my head My mouths getting hungry For the hand its been fed My mouths getting hungry For the hand its been fed