There are horses in the atmosphere

Running free and wild, springing, falling,

Following the trail of the white horse.

The child divine sings to them

Whistling the wind into shooting stars.

Our warm scarves will protect us

From the night and northern light,

Emanating from the child divine.

We wandered smoky forests so late at night

And saw a blaze of dreams on the other side

Where the valley burned, glowing like a thousand fluorescent light bulbs

All life hung from a cradle, the white horse ran swift with the breathing embers

Falling to her place in the sky

There she is alive as the child divine.