When this horse tires, we shall eat it for strength.

I hope my pony knows the way back home	The lost art of walking	The Weary Traveller, who tried, sought	West and away the wheels of darkness roll
Name every road down which you go in a tongue that only you know	Those of us who are thieves starve without a joker in our deck.	You go wait out in the truck	The boots of the corpse that I found in the river, the ones that you wore and followed for miles.
When the rescue plane landed, I realized we had resorted to cannibalism too soon.	I never bend what I can break	For from dust we were created and to dust we shall return	The Camp of the Saints
Normally we ride in silence	Bust out the biscuits, strike up the band	That morning the sun rose in the west	Pound of flesh
Will no one help the widow's son?	The Burdens Of All	A man toiled on a burning road	Ramble On
How it is that we stop asking questions	broken back	fever pitch	hungry shivers

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