Unlock the doors, Heave back the creeper. No-one's been here for years But stragglers and sleepwalkers. When all of those ahead of us are stampeding wildly, Stand up in the saddle and be galloping beside me. There's no breath of air as fresh as that which is uncertain So take my muddy hand as we slip under the curtain. All the time, We're singing a song. Slappin' on thighs, And stompin' along. And all the time, I'm thinking of you, And all the things That we Could be Putting each other through.