Chariot

Your horses are wild
Your armor is cold
Your helmet is shining
But your mind is still old

The people are roaring
You must heed their call
Your wheels are on fire
You don't know how to fall
They call

Chariot, chariot, chariot fly

Your muscles are aching
Pain shows in your face
Your life sits there hanging
You must win the race

The rope tears the skin
On the palm of your hand
This penchant for glory
No one can understand
They sang

Chariot, chariot, chariot fly

No one cares about your pain
Winning is the only game
They don't know what you are inside
They don't care if you die
They cry

Chariot, chariot, chariot fly

words/music by Tom McCormack
© 1993 Spotted Dog (ASCAP)