I see horsemen in the field
They just cleared the horizon
I think they’re hounds of heaven
They just keep riding

I’m at the hard end of my trail
They’re aint nowhere to go
Cause I can’t cross that river
I’d never make the shore

I see mountains of glory
I see hills of green
Aint none of that a worry
If I can’t cross that stream

Hounds of heaven
Riding steeds of black
Except for that white one
With hell at his back

Well I can make for the forest
I can make for the draw
I can make for the canyon
But I can’t cross

I can make for the cliffs now
And the caves beyond
But I can’t make it right no
With what I’ve done wrong

They’re closing distance now
I can read it in the sky
Apocalyptic fervor
You can read it in their eyes

They’re tracking me by sin now
And I reek with the stench of death
If I can make the river
That might drown the scent

Well I can make for the forest
I can make for the draw
I can make for the canyon
But Lord I can’t cross

I can make for the cliffs now
And the caves beyond
But I can’t make it right no
With what I’ve done wrong
I’ve done wrong . . .

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