The Mustangs

And the wind tore across
The waving seas of wild grass,
Ghosting through towering pines
And over glassy mountain lakes.
For with the wind ran freedom,
And quiet morning calls
Or harsh battles cries of challenge.
They are the untamable children;
The very essence of spirit and pride,
The survivors,
The veterans.
They with ancient history
Unbreakable as the greatest mountains.
Be they hunted,
Be they corralled,
The wild runs in their blood;
Freedom in their veins.
Placed in corrals and sold,
They can never be caged.
They are the first,
They are the free,
They are the wild ones.