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lyrics

Wolf in a Woollen Coat

One finger on a synth,
one finger on Rewind.
Welcome to the litter-strewn labyrinth
of your own mind.

Beware, my little hummingbird,
of serpents in the bower.
Twisted words make a mockery of love,
and are readily devoured.

Her confidant—her suitor—
edges into shot.
Betrayed by him, I am out on a limb;
he’s everything I’m not.

Late-night caller,
I am sorely tempted
to seize you by the throat.
I know what you are.
I’ll prise away your disguise,
wolf in a woollen coat,
wolf in a woollen coat.

Cut to the tavern:
a silent relic,
back from the dead,
stamping snow from my boots.
Cut to the chase:
though you wounded me,
I’m taut metal, aged wood,
flesh and blood and English roots.

I’m a creature of the night—
a creature of the dawn.
Bits inbetween, I can’t get right;
her queen obliterates my pawn.

A solitary beast—
no lust for gore—
I shun the pack for I, too, am a wolf,
and I’ll pin him to the wall.

A counselling certificate—
another meaningless embrace.
Welcome to the cold, black hole
at the back of his face.

Late-night caller,
I am sorely tempted
to seize you by the throat.
I know what you are.
I’ll prise away your disguise,
wolf in a woollen coat,
wolf in a woollen coat.

I will go first, to prepare the way ahead.
Do Not Resuscitate.
When I’m ready, I will regenerate.
I will go first, to prepare the way ahead.
It’s okay. When the month of May
comes around, we will spread our wings.
We will find infinity within,
we will find infinity within.

credits

from The Red Telephone Boxes' Graveyard EP, released November 1, 2010

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Blue-John Benjamin Whitby, UK

"We put the boot in - flew the freak-flag;
We stood resolute like Morrissey’s quiff."

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