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