The Running Of the Wolves

Take your ears off the ground
My People, My tribe.

Because you will not hear them coming

For the moon is gone
And the stars are dead

And the Wolves tonight are Running

and for every babe that braes i pray withhold your tears
and give your pain in the way for these words and these fallen celestial spears

For once and forever the pack have turned
And all that was gleamed from chaos tonight will be observed

So Take your faces of the dirt
My People, My tribe

Because the Wolves are Running

And the possibility of Blood and salivation foams and flows within their jowls
And even the Full Moon does not want an audience
to even the loneliest wolf that tonight will howl

So Gather now and forgive the Romulus and Remus
But not this fog- that into this provincial town does seep

and those creatures that prey in packs do no think for themselves
but are in blind servitude for the Milk like deception
suckled from the Wolf Mother's tite

So fear not my people, my tribe
Because there are lions here
and the wolves will discover this soon enough

When the dawn rises with the sun
And gone are the tears from our eyes
and the mud from our ears