WOLFEN
Graying and long-in-the-tooth, guitar case
Slung up behind him like a timber wolf’s tail,
he’s drawn from out of the woodwork of his
cabin-fever, backwoods-hills den along with
the legions of other lone-wolf steppenwolves
stepping up to the open-mic, each powerless in
the thrall of his particular Alpha Wolf’s anthems,
the ones curled up in the lair of his skull, living there,
calls of the wild thrumming his tuning-fork
heart until he’s gotta howl— can’t help it any
more than the beagle scratched behind the ear
can help thumping his hind paw on the rug!
Born to be Wi-hi-ld!
Wild Thing (I think I love you!)
I see a ba-had moo-hoon risin’!
A-HOO-hoo! Werewolves in London!
He’d howl
all night long...
but for that merciful
three-song limit...
Slung up behind him like a timber wolf’s tail,
he’s drawn from out of the woodwork of his
cabin-fever, backwoods-hills den along with
the legions of other lone-wolf steppenwolves
stepping up to the open-mic, each powerless in
the thrall of his particular Alpha Wolf’s anthems,
the ones curled up in the lair of his skull, living there,
calls of the wild thrumming his tuning-fork
heart until he’s gotta howl— can’t help it any
more than the beagle scratched behind the ear
can help thumping his hind paw on the rug!
Born to be Wi-hi-ld!
Wild Thing (I think I love you!)
I see a ba-had moo-hoon risin’!
A-HOO-hoo! Werewolves in London!
He’d howl
all night long...
but for that merciful
three-song limit...