S  T  E  P  P  E  N  W  O  L  F

Starting from the neck so many mysteries await: a heron’s den, a hero’s hair, a tooth made of gold.
Rest assured my love there’s reasons to be scared. I’m sure there’s millions of them, I’m not one of them at all.

Lost in the steppes, I am a wolf lusting and starved forevermore. Yes at my best I’m an animal.
A cigarette, a coffee cup, feasting on the flesh of apricots, yes at my best I’m an animal.

Don’t step on the grass Sam, there are obstacles in sight and something always govern my thoughts no matter where I go.
Blessed are the mystics with their peppermints and incense, laughter is a mask of feelings, how laughable.

Lost in the steppes, I am a wolf lusting and starved forevermore. Yes at my best I’m an animal.
A cigarette, a coffee cup, feasting on the flesh of apricots, yes at my best I’m an animal.
Now follow my lead I’m in New York: ten floors above, fourty below, still at my best I’m an animal.
Raging in fear, painting with oil, ridiculous when I loose control. yes at my best I’m an animal.

(Something is burning over there: a fragment of my soul.)