We drew our own guns as we drew our last breath; remembered our memories and then welcomed in death. We held out to the end but there was something so heartless about the look in our eyes as we watched the sky darken. I said I'd never fear again, but now here I am: nose bloody and eyes red, my fears have been well-fed. My one hand holds an apple flower; the other a sceptre; the latter to beat myself; the first to remember. I could face Death leading four white horses; see, I've got my orders, yeah baby, I've got my orders. From nightmares I wake to find that I'm well past the borders. Slept walk past the razorwire; down here with the oil fires. I've got a record of my favourite memories, there was never a safe path to walk, I've always had enemies. I could face Death leading four white horses; my worst fear in the world is that I've got my orders. "You knew the name." "I can't remember the name." "You forgot the picture." "But I remember the pain." And in between a wash of petals and flowers, a scent of hope and union during the last desperate hours. Now we're the orphans of fear, clothed in our bonds of desire; how our minds long to be clear, naked and riding the fire. How we've shuddered and shaken, relived our own guilty past, blushed at the things that we've taken, our mantra: "Last things last." I could face Death leading four white horses; see, I've got my orders, yeah baby, I've got my orders. From nightmares I wake to find that I'm well past the borders. Slept walk past the razorwire; down here with the oil fires. I found a record of my favourite memories, there was never a safe path to walk, I've always had enemies. I could face Death leading four white horses; my worst fear in the world is that I've got my orders.