wolves (song of the shepherd's dog)

Lyrics

wolves by the road, and a bike wheel spinning on a pawn shop wall, she leaned on her colored hair, like a butterfly wing in a summer rainfall, and the roll on the kitchen floor, some fucker with a pocketful of foreign change, song of the shepherd's dog, a pitch in the dark in the ear of the lamb, who was going to try to run away, whoever got that brave?, wolves in the middle of town, and the chapel bell ringing through the wind-blown trees, to wave to the butcher's boy, with the parking lot music everybody believes, and then out like a dying bird, in the corner of the penny arcade, song of the shepherd's dog, waiting around the jack call of the rooster, on the rooftop waiting for day, and ain't nobody's going to say, wolves at the end of the bed, and a postcard hidden in her winter clothes, she beat in the back of a truck, to the trailers when we trying to find the bullet hole, and then run down the canopy rows, some mother and a baby with a cross to nail, song of the shepherd's dog, little brown flea in the bottle of oil, for your woolly wild hair, you'll never get him out of there