by Jeffrey Murrell


Beware the yellow, dream-colored horse.
He bucks and rears if you say his name wrong!
He blinded a child as he kicked in her door;
She called him "Buttercup," and
He was simply appalled!

I glanced into his eyes as he flew into a rage.
Anguish and torment burned in his face!
Made to be hunted by the mortals he betrayed;
(Abandoned, his liaison mission had failed!)

There are those who would say he hasn't a care.
But to see him content is extremely rare.
An attempt to ride him is a deadly affair!
(But he gave me a lift 'cause of the boots that I wear!)

If you haven't a need, don't knock at the door.
The old man's asleep; he's not well at all.
Constantly nagged by memories of the war.
Ah! But to see the gold beast once more!

He's a demon in disguise
And he's quite irate!
Trapped in this world with no hope for escape!
Banished to reality for crimes he did commit
While serving old Lucifer outside hell's abyss!