Wolves (Song of the Shepherd's Dog)

Wolves by the road And a bike wheel spinning on a pawn shop wall She'll ring out her colored hair Like a butterfly beaten in the summer rainfall And then 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 year of the lamb Who's gonna try to run away Whoever got that brave? Wolves in the middle of town And a chapel bell ringing through the wind-blown trees To 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 Song of the shepherd's dog The waiter and the check call the rooster On a rooftop waiting for day And you know what he's gonna 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 the bullet hole And then run down the canopy road Some mother and a baby with a cross to bear 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