A 1000 horses galloping a 1000 cowboys riding

In the earthy existence galaxies intergalactic despair being mere persistent, swallow starships no aliens abroad this abandoned ship.
So the struggling horses get up and gallop for ten moons, gallop and gallop the motoways near highway codes.
Speeding with the radical Ferrari, we ride on horse power to the end.
We ride on the mother solar system power to the end.
It circulates our mysterious of time.
Questions riddled on human nature grounds...I am one of them now no better, no worse who is searching...for answers bottled.
Rattlesnakes don't cry no more mountain tears to its victim worth cherished.
A fargon leg horn colouring morning spirituality awakens hens, unsupervised sheeps losing their way in the emerald herds.
Where goddess sunrise sprinkles onto closed eyelids.
It sprinkles lost magic that hold onto white dust by eye lashes.
Where Internet rules inner cities have no care for the natural world.
It's natural resources, it's what's separates us from the animals.

There have been a billion of stars, billions telling memories of country western songs to flourish, cowboy adventures to their young.
There have  been a thousand cars speeding the fast and the furious, there have been a thousand cowboys riding the Nevada grounds, how horse riding that sounds, dirt tucked in their boots, 24-7 helicopters hovering, swinging like T-shirts, Jeeps stomping the muds, trucks running the yard, claiming life is hard it sucks to be behind schedule.
Note to VCR clocks, DVDs, BlueRay...this isn't  your twilight fairytales, no fast and furious rally, with crashing in an electric circuit.
It seems the go go go cowboys having the chase of their lives are always chasing us, catching us, hop over one fence over another, one partner hiding behind cactus, with rope in place, watching the gallop riot its way through gravels dusting like rushing winds of gust, buckle their shoes locking us in bar fences, riding us like camels, where travel seems far ahead of their time.
Isn't this the time to be free, go on a horse run spree with nature.
See the world in we run and run and run into the desert of Nevada, I'm no American rider, I'm a phoenix glider.

I've travelled there overseas, in the middle of nowhere but I run with them, ride with them all the way.
We have horses, strange mammals in Britain, they run, and run just like you but they're trapped, they can't swim neither but they can give one long of a niierrrrr.
Galloping legs, galloping horse power like Ferrari wheels I run faster than a speeding to be free in my own world thoughts, feelings spray, my own platforms on fresh grass cut and trimmed, no rough grounds making a horse stumble onto his knees, no traps can catch me, I'm unstoppable like a roadrunner.
Their ropes wanna pull giving them a rodes scenario.
Horns tussle through thick ropes, like a loose canon we're riding the hills all the way partner, the riders to the end.

The cliffs are horizons where we gallop senseless on runaway trails, horse shoe prints marking roads like a railway, but there's no Eurostar on our tracks, speeding bullets try harder to hit us down.
Let's ride to the hilltops where sunny spells cry drizzles like raindrops, it's wet and soggy on green grasses of English country.
The English Channel is near, the sea near the shore is dear.
We' ll gallop on the galaxies to another planet Mars, or planet Texas that's out of this world.
Stars in no limits, floating around solar system dreams, no rainbow can reach.
It's a runaway world, and I'm chasing a billion stars in the vortex, it's a pony.
The pony of my dreams, I dreamed for, and we need a barn for the little fowls that come into this world of ours.
Cos I want those same horses running free without no ropes or stables holding them behind.
I want them born wild and free, scare away cowboys like fleas, buzz buzz buzz off annoying ropes of talking saddles.
Go ring yourself a herd of cattles, rope strange yourself till you hang as hangman, runaway runaway to the horizons no man can capture.
Runaway to the rainbows no pot of gold can fool you.
I am the war horse that calls off the strangler, we are cry our runnings for release.
Spell your way out of this spelling bee, no string in the ass will give you release of my kick off.
So run horses of despair run all you like to the mellows, where they don't have to milk you for what you are worth.
You are the symbol that thrives for Apollo's lyre.
You are a son of a bitch that kicks a fuss.
You are the unicorn that leaps.
You are the other half that creeps.