| I get home after one and the dog looks drunk
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| He should walk it off with that little strut he does
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| Yes, I dug up the dirt and heard from little birds who’d gotten hurt
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| That you were mean before me, love
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| You could throw a stone, but can’t we all?
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| So we man our shops and fix up where the kids have picked the locks
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| And then the moon makes wolves of us
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| And we battle lust
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| But don’t follow me now
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| Don’t be howling
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| You’re too much, you’re too soon
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| You want me to come up to your room
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| And I want to too but I’m with him and you’re with you
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| So what do we do now?
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| The world throws up a hundred little clues
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| And they all seem as doomed as us and it cuts and cuts
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| But don’t follow me now
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| Don’t be howling
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| 'Cause the feelings turn and the turning hurts
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| The wings of birds and the arms of girls
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| You’ve gone and lost your shoes and now you curse me and I curse you
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| You’re gone in the woods and now you’re hurting and I hurt too
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| You’ve gone and got me good
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| You know you got me good and you knew you would |