The Winning Pony

Everything you thought

Magic as a kid

In a different light

Light is getting dim

Man with a P.A

Singing in the lot

Does he have ambition

Is it just a job?

Black-pilled children dragged by their parents

Hide behind the stable, face on the cement

And I don't remember much but the winning pony

Circling the track

Seven-foot stud

Jockeys on the ground

Playing in the mud

He calls himself the wolf king of New York

But I don't know why

I thought he rode a horse

Don't have your mind made up before you know

I thought as I looked at the highway out the window

But I don't remember much but the winning pony

Bag men carrying laptops made of bones

Kwik-Trip gas station, talking on the phone

I don't remember much but the winning pony

I was in the basement, I was trying to kill the power

They said that I can't leave until I let the feeling pass

And if they come in last then they get the incinerator

And if they come in first then they just sit in their own mess