Mustang Hearts

I hear the whispers of a western city
calling us by name,
begging us to come back home,
reclaim our hearts,
bear them back east.
Trouble only do they cause,
stirring up the murky waters, dragging people in
who glimpse those gleaming heads of copper
which represent our bloodless hearts
and reaching for them fall
into painful humiliation
drowning in more than sorrows.
It calls again crying out against the pain
that we have unknowingly inflicted.
Let's you, me, us three ride tonight and meet the call
to bring our mustang hearts back home.