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The Horn The Hunt
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Old Town Cow
High in the moors beyond the hum
Of telephones and powerstations
I dig a hole to find the sky
To find the man I'll wrap him in skin and hide
Red is the flame I paint inside his shadow
We look for grey, we look for white
The bleakest landscape here
Those eyes of the North Atlantic
Break the ice with a mighty stare
I've been you arm, I've been your barn
And I'll be your farm with good transport
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And when you blink to see right in
Behind the figures from your schoolyard
They'll watch your feet tip-toe around
Their broken hearts tossed in the traffic
And in the wind I'll sing along
I'll pull the old town cow in
No one is coming
I will cleave the light on just so you can stay awake
Stay awake, stay awake
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