for my pack

 

There is nothing special about me any more
There is nothing new about being lonely
I had a pack
we raised our noses to the sky
we made the moon listen
we made the night fly
and now it is me only

And I cry
for my pack
out on these lonely hills 
x2

No more the hunt, knowing what to do
no more the fun of playing with the pups
no more their breath
rising from the den at night
playing tag, running on the brilliant snow 
bellies sag, we took a buffalo

And I cry
for my pack
out on these lonely hills
x2






Published by

Allegra

Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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