Black Lane - The Dead Science

You may not have a car at all

Gangster white walls

So you’ll walk all the way home

Though your body yearns to lay down anywhere

Those eyes you meet, offending windowpanes

Will stay consigned to the night

You’ll wake up, in your bed again

A dull and soaring white

The eight horses wearing trappings as black as the night

Dressed in black were the drivers

In black bows their whips were tied

A carriage with eight horses will carry you away

You’ll wake up, in your bed again

A dull and soaring gray