CRYING WOLF
You turn out the lights and sit alone,
trying to pretend that it's anguish;
start at the ring of a telephone,
throw down all your food at the banquet,
keep a close eye on all you own,
while leaving it all to languish:-
Is this what makes you happy?
Is this what brings you joy?
Your excuses are so crappy...
    silly boy.

You take all the love and throw it aside
to wallow in your sorrow,
expect everyone to know how you feel inside,
to forgive and [bad word] tomorrow -
repaying all your debts with [bad word] pride,
but denying that you ever borrowed...
Is this whay makes you perfect?
Is this what makes you free?
Just how long do you rehearse it,
    or does it [bad word] naturally?

Crying wolf from the depth of you sheep's heart
crying fire from the depth of the well,
in an endless parade of repeat starts,
just how long will it last - can you tell?
Untill all your friends and lovers
are simply bored with the pretence?
It'll be too late then to discover
just exactly what you meant
    and what was [bad word]     and what was false...
    the wolf turned into human,
    the killer with remorse.

Crying pain as though that should be pleasure,
crying anger as though that should be revenge,
crying sorrow as though that were a treasure -
your treasure will find you in the end.

When all of your friends have gone away,
unwilling to put up with the danger
that lies in each spiteful word you say,
you'll have made yourself a perfect stranger;
baying at the moon both night and day
you'll be left, a greying wolf in a manger.
And when you've raised your last howl
and destroyed all that you can
with rotting teeth and slack jowls
you'll be left a lonely man.
And when it's nearly finished
and you know the end is near
with [bad word] sorrow undiminished
there'll be no-one left to hear -
    your desperate cries,
    they [bad word] out as bleats:
    and though you were a wolf-man.
but you're really
        just a sheep.