Read it like a church Hymn. (Line 1 Verse 1, Line 1 Verse 2, etc.) It translates to:
Wolves by the road
Wolves in the middle of town
Wolves at the end of the bed
And a bike wheel spinning on a pawn shop wall
And the chapel bell ringing through the wind-blown trees
And a postcard hidden in her winter clothes
She leaned on her colored hair
To wave to the butcher’s boy
She beat in the back of a truck
Like a butterfly wing in a summer rainfall
With the parking lot music everybody believes
To the trailers when we trying to find the bullet hole
And the roll on the kitchen floor
And then out like a dying bird
And then run down the canopy rows
Some fucker with a pocketful of foreign change
In the corner of the penny arcade
Some mother and a baby with a cross to nail
Song of the shepherd’s dog (x 3)
A pitch in the dark in the ear of the lamb
Waiting around the jack call of the rooster
Little brown flea in the bottle of oil
Who was going to try to run away
On the rooftop waiting for day
For your woolly wild hair
Whoever got that brave?
And ain’t nobody’s going to say
You'll never get him out of there
Read it like a church Hymn. (Line 1 Verse 1, Line 1 Verse 2, etc.) It translates to:
Wolves by the road Wolves in the middle of town Wolves at the end of the bed And a bike wheel spinning on a pawn shop wall And the chapel bell ringing through the wind-blown trees And a postcard hidden in her winter clothes She leaned on her colored hair To wave to the butcher’s boy She beat in the back of a truck Like a butterfly wing in a summer rainfall With the parking lot music everybody believes To the trailers when we trying to find the bullet hole And the roll on the kitchen floor And then out like a dying bird And then run down the canopy rows Some fucker with a pocketful of foreign change In the corner of the penny arcade Some mother and a baby with a cross to nail Song of the shepherd’s dog (x 3) A pitch in the dark in the ear of the lamb Waiting around the jack call of the rooster Little brown flea in the bottle of oil Who was going to try to run away On the rooftop waiting for day For your woolly wild hair Whoever got that brave? And ain’t nobody’s going to say You'll never get him out of there
Some of it goes together.. Strange.