Two young horses dragging to St. Pete Worn out tired, right here And the night falls on this oceans' white hour 'Cause you won't be coming home to me And you said it sad and so playfully I wish God would make things clear 'Cause there's no fight left in me Relentlessly the sun is igniting While all these concrete boxes sit empty On these defeated Floridian streets I know you won't be coming home to me Two young horses dragging to St. Pete Worn out, tired Worn out, tired There's no fight left in me