Some say love is a burning thing That it makes a fiery ring Oh but I know love as a fading thing Just as fickle as a feather in a stream See, honey, I saw love, You see it came to me It puts its

I could be the tiger, I could be the snake I could be the fire, I could be the lake I could be the sky-bird waiting on the wind I could be the devil waiting to begin See, I was the wounded maste

Mama, there's wolves in the house Mama, they won't let me out Mama, they're mating at night Mama, they won’t make nice They're pacing and glowing bright Their faces all snowy and white Bury