The wolf he howls, howls up at the moon
some day coming - some day soon
Onto his shoulder, to carry me home

flying up through the silhouette trees and we'll be gone
Colours brighter than I've ever seen - more wired than I've ever been

And all the faces turn to stone - on through the gates again . . .
What a wonderful way to go - what a wonderful way to go . . .


You are missed, P. x