| The wolf he howls, howls up at the moon
|
| Out on the steps beneath my hotel room
|
| Was in the woods behind this little town
|
| We went flying up through the silhouette trees
|
| Then crashing down. |
| Colours brighter than I’ve ever seen
|
| More wired than I’ve ever been — and the faces turn to stone. |
| .
|
| On through the gates again — what a wonderful way to go. |
| .
|
| What a wonderful way to go
|
| Tell me your story, tell me no lies;
|
| We touch each other — but only with our eyes
|
| Some kind of game, to play with desire;
|
| It’s just beneath the skin that I’m alive
|
| Colours brighter than I’ve ever seen — more wired than I’ve ever been
|
| And the faces turn to stone — on through the gates again;
|
| What a wonderful way to go — what a wonderful way to go
|
| Tonight the moon, she lays a silver path across the blackened sea
|
| I’m swimming out against the tide, the waves are breaking over me;
|
| And deep beneath the waters in the darkness I can hear her
|
| As she calls for me to come..
|
| The wolf he howls, howls up at the moon;
|
| Some day coming — some day soon
|
| Onto his shoulder, to carry me home;
|
| Flying up through the silhouette trees and we’ll be gone
|
| Colours brighter than I’ve ever seen — more wired than I’ve ever been;
|
| And all the faces turn to stone — on through the gates again. |
| .
|
| What a wonderful way to go — what a wonderful way to go. |
| . |