HOWLING AT THE MOON

If you look at me with those oxblood eyes
I'm likely to cry 'til my tears run icy
If you look at me with your tongue hanging out
With your hands all clammy and your little piggy snout

I'm likely to run
Far away, don't doubt it
I'm likely to run
To my salvation

You've got my heart in a workmate vise
You've clamped my ring finger nice and tight
And I rattle my chains 'til the wolfhound cries
'Til the moon is yellow and there's nothing to die for

I'm likely to run
Far away, don't doubt it
I'm likely to crawl
To my salvation

Poems about a second-hand emotion