I glide upon the wave of one thousand white stallions
Stampeding through the masses of the British Regime
Stoic and unmoving
Every horse galloping together, each drum beating as one

Dancing, I am filled with power and gratitude
Fiery, melting what is beneath me, spinning symbols of eternity
Leaving what was made mountainous, rolling valleys
Smooth and icy, sharp trails of sincerity

Flying, I am flying, I am no longer touching the saddles
They are powerless, drifted together in whichever way
The wind threatens to take them
Alone they are feeble, but with God's slight breath of air

They are gone.