Get out your horses, your headless horsemen are calling with their throats of steel. Get off your horses your headless horsemen are coming, with their hearts of steel. I am a glockenspiel. I am a windmill. I move the energy round like the forces of nature. Like they do. I gather up the wind in my basket so I can pull on through. I am a glockenspiel. I am a windmill. They look at you like you've been sitting here for a while. They look at you like you've been sitting here for a while, waiting for your ship to come in. And they don't want you I can tell. They've got a sense of you without a sense of smell. So maybe if I come to you too, they won't want me. Everybody's rushing after their horses, gathering up their forces. I am just a glockenspiel. I imagine myself a windmill. And if I can become inanimate then I don't have to worry about it. I am a glockenspiel. I am a windmill. I am.