...

When I was young, my grandmother's horse tried to bite my head

Soon he ran away, a horse with no name and no home

Not much older I was chased by her mutt

Many years later, she died by the cruel hand of winter.

She caged my great grandfather's dog in the forest.

Said too dangerous, too unknown to be safe

It's fur black even at the age of 20

I've come to realize that an animal that's neglected

is an animal that only knows how to bite.