Bill Callahan has learnt not to rush songwriting. If it happens, it happens. Meanwhile, he's got living to do. He drives from gig to gig, his guitar on the back seat. His favourite guitar was stolen once, but Bill Callahan regarded this as a liberation. 'You shouldn't own too many things. Or be too attached to any of them', he told himself at the time, remembering the teachings of the Buddha. Oh, Bill Callahan is no Buddhist, but there's some truth in Buddhism, he often thinks to himself. Besides, he likes the idea of living his life according a code. His code, which he'll keep to himself.
Bill Callahan finds himself in an unfamiliar town. He's playing a gig tonight, but there are a few hours to spare. He phones the venue. Yes, everything's okay. They're ready for him. Bill Callahan drinks his Heineken. He's long since given up carrying a notebook with him to catch ideas for his lyrics. Still, he likes to sit and be still sometimes, to see what ideas come to him. The barman has brought him his snack. 'Are you sure it's vegetarian?' Bill Callahan asks. Yes, it's vegetarian; this is the West Coast, so he can trust them. They've heard of vegetarians here.
Now Bill Callahan is thinking about horses. He likes to write about horses, but he doesn't take it lightly. It's a serious business, writing about horses. Right now, the expression 'let me see the colts' is going through his head. It's a name of a song he's been working on oh for a couple of years. 'Let me See the Colts', that's what it'll be called, when he finishes it. He doesn't take it lightly. It'll be a serious song; one to end an album with, perhaps.
Bill remembers a story his sister told him about when she used to look after horses. One day, she said, she went into the stable and found the two horses she looked for lying down, one on one side of the stable, one on the other. In the middle, there was the donkey standing upright, not knowing what to do.
Then, the miracle; a phrase comes to Bill Callahan: 'there's nothing as still as sleeping horses'. Yes, that was the phrase Bill Callahan had been looking for. 'There's nothing as still ...' he wonders whether this is true. Has he ever seen a sleeping horse? He thought they only slept standing up. But no, thinking about it, he has seen horses sitting down, their long legs folded up. 'There's nothing as still as sleeping horses': yes, this is the lyric he was looking for. Now he feels the song is complete. He'll try it out later, after the gig.