Slow me to trot, and revel as I maintain; communicate your thoughts, with the way you ride my frame - squeeze me with your thighs, I'll work into gallop; if you want to feel my gait, tease your tongue across my palate. Choke me by the neck, pull on my rains - I'll lurch, and I'll buck and I'll pound, from the pain. Master and Her Beast, they're one and the same - verbalization unnecessary, your body commands my name. I delight in my purpose, to surge, and to drive, to glisten with sweat, and to bring you alive. Harness my breeding, put me to the test; ride me 'til you're sore and you're ready to rest. To a quarter-horse you're no burden, this is only a tryst - I was chiseled for your purpose, I was made for this. Master and Her Beast, they're one and the same - the rhythm, the rush, and the pulling of mane.
