I knew a girl who thought she was a horse
The world could only tell her how crazy she was
They rounded her up, they locked her in a stall
They called themselves kind because they fed her everyday

She escaped from time to time and it was one of my jobs then
To chase down the brave ones and put them back in
It was something I did
It earned me some cash and some scratches

But I saw her once, I saw her once, I saw her
You can tie me up with labels
Muzzle me with laughter
But I swear to you
I saw her

Someone had seen her near Columbia Park
I held on to my walky-talky and hoofed it through the trees
I was calling her name, my boss was in the van
I was thinking about lunch

And then I saw it coming at me, and I turned, and I froze
It was tossing its head and snorting
It was running right toward me
An appaloosa, white and brown

She trotted to a stop, I stepped in close so those strong legs couldn’t hurt me
I pressed myself against her, my arm over her back
I smelled her neck, she let me
I knew her

“You’ve got to come back now,” I said without thinking
“They’re waiting for you in the van.”
She was suddenly that wild girl again
Not even scared, just looking at me to see what would happen

We found the van and I told them she would not be riding with us
They looked at me and rolled their eyes
I said, “Let her run, it’ll be easier,”
My boss said, “Whatever. I’ve got work to do at the office.”

So we slammed the door shut and I called for her to follow
She ran like the wind, she smiled, she leapt
She tore through the streets with pride and power
I sat in the van in watched her

When we got back they took her to room
They locked the door and fed her, she ate hungrily
I went back to my cubicle
And unwrapped some leftovers