Wolves [Song Of The Shepherd's Dog] lyrics

Wolves by the road

and a bike wheel spinning on a pawn shop wall

She’ll wring out her colored hair

like a butterfly beaten in a summer rainfall

And then roll on the kitchen floor

of some fucker with a pocketful of foreign change

The song of the shepherd’s dog,

a ditch in the dark in the ear of the lamb

Who’s going to try to run away

Whoever got that brave

Wolves in the middle of town

and a chapel bell ringing through the wind-blown trees

She’ll wave to the butcher’s boy

with the parking lot music everybody believes

And then dive like a dying bird

at any dude with a dollar at the penny arcade

The song of the shepherd’s dog,

the waiter and the check or the rooster on a rooftop

waiting for day

And you know what he’s going to say

Wolves at the end of the bed

and a postcard hidden in her winter clothes

She’ll weep in the back of a truck

to the traitors only trying to find her bullet hole

And then run down a canopy road

to some mother and a baby with a cross to bear

The song of the shepherd’s dog,

a little brown flea in the bottle of oil

for your wool, wild hair

You'll never get him out of there