Ride on my blind horse Down the hill to my land Clutching on to a fat stick My nails thick and grey Like the claws of an animal I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world Well not my land or not my world Rain falling In a dream Talk to my horse as I ride Down the hill To my land Sitting heavy and stiff This body is hard, solid steel strong These seven years have dragged on I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world Well not my land or not my world Rain falling In a dream Seven years since I saw a woman Seven years since my mother died I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world Well not my land or not my world Witness once again, December Lifestyle of my land Bless this soul, the forgotten breed I hear the travellers of a fast changing world Well not my land or not my world Witness once again, December Lifestyle of my land Bless this soul, the forgotten breed