Untitled.

We are flames that pour out of the earth
I can almost feel the cold water of that lake
Lapping against my toes
Out of some ancient fissue I came
Rode a yellow steed into a hail of arrows
The arrows were my hundred doubts
The horse was old and spare
And when the happy pills don't work anymore
I'll probably leave the same way I came
To meet Vulcan, god forger of mortal men
Asleep inside his den of flames.