| There’s a howlin at my window, baby
|
| I hear him closin in
|
| That green-eyed jackal’s got the scent
|
| Knows I’ll let him in
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| He slinks in by me at the fire
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| More bitter than the cold
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| And it’s a rage as old as Hades
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| That’ll sputter on these coals
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| I’m callin on the Furies, to let the toast begin
|
| I’m roasting on the spit of love again
|
| I never have believed you
|
| But I stick around for more
|
| Somethin bout that hollow in your eyes
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| There’s a darkness at the core
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| Well, it’s got me slowly turnin
|
| I’m basting on the bone
|
| I’m skewered like some drunken fool
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| In juices all my own
|
| Callin the Furies' carrion choir
|
| Singin me back upon the pyre
|
| I’m roasting on that spit of love again
|
| You can call it what you want
|
| But it’s lyin just the same
|
| There’s no mercy in these ashes, baby
|
| When your love’s a cryin shame
|
| And they’re howlin in moonlight, baby
|
| They’re here to call my bluff
|
| They’re wonderin if there’ll ever come a day
|
| When I’ll have finally had enough
|
| I’m callin on the Furies, to let the toast begin
|
| I’m roasting on that spit of love again |