Dust devils rise, The dark horse knows, Something fierce is coming close. Silent terror crossing the plains, The smell of rain, the taste of change. Rivers swell and fences break, Lightning scars, trees get baked. Wind tears the roofs from white weathered shacks, No warning given, no turning back. The herd’s gone wild, the ground will shake, Thunder follows in its wake. Cattle stampede, the timid run, The sky blood red, the calm undone. Through dust and fear, time turns slow, The dark horse stands, unshaken by the devil's squall... Torn earth screams beneath the rain, Nature’s wrath, raw with pain. The air cuts deep, the lightning crawls, And still he stares while the heavens fall. No rope to bind him, no hand to guide, Just will and fire and stubborn pride. While chaos burns across the land, He digs his hooves in, makes his stand. Cattle stampede, the timid run, The strong ride out what can’t be undone. Through smoke and flood, through broken walls, The dark horse stands, the dark horse calls. When the storm rolls on and the plains turn black, He leaves no trail, he never looks back. Some call it fate, some call it pride, The dark horse is resilient, others hide.
