There's a Black Horse

There's a black horse in a photograph
His mane blows in your face
Your eyes are hidden
Will you be taken away

Black and white feathers blow across the lawn
The dog is sleeping on them
The scaffold is almost done

We're hiding in the hills
The rope hasn't snapped yet
Feel like I could live forever
Forever hasn't happened yet

The shadow of blackbirds as many as in a pie
The shadow of blackbirds as many as baked in a pie
Passes over your burning head as you prepare to die