Oh God I think I'm dying,
And our drinks were just poured,
Look outside someone's waiting,
With a yellow horse.

With a hole in the heart I was forced to ride
in morning traffic.
With a golden hand by your fortress side
but without magic.

Somebody, somebody tell me it won't be long
'cause a horse is not a home
a horse is not a home.

Uninvited to the play
where language doesn't hurt
with nothing on my shirt.
Sometimes I swim with you
in a room that is ocean-sized and clear not here
where all I breathe is smoke.

With a hole in the heart I was forced to ride
in morning traffic
with a golden hand by your fortress side
but without magic.
Somebody Somebody Somebody tell me it won't be long
'cause a horse is not a home
a horse is not a home.

(By Guto Bernardo)