These days?
Well these days
I'm just a lame dog
in cold mud
Once was a wolf
probably be an old coyote one day
but now I'm just a circle-walking wound-licker
tethered to a sinkhole
My how I could howl
at a bulbous moon
and I can just imagine
how I'll croon to find a grave
but here my hum's a whisper
with a little too much tongue
and though as beautiful as blue
and shining like the Dog Star
my song won't raise a hair
or even reach the ear I'm singing to
only muddle my understanding
of an otherwise comprehendible world