• The old white wolf

    There is a city
    full of haze
    The people walk pass eachother
    as if all in a daze
    It rains on this city
    All day and all night
    The lighting strikes and thunder roars
    displaying to all nature's might
    The wind whistles
    through the city
    The only sound
    in this city of pity
    And in the city
    on a street corner
    Stands an old white wolf
    silent as a evening morner
    His fur is shaggy
    and hangs low to the ground
    His eyes stare unseeing
    at the people all around
    his eyes yet see though
    And his ears yet hear
    but not in the present
    not in the time here
    They see into the past
    to days gone by
    The images float before him
    as if brought on the wind's soft sigh
    His ears
    fill with the sounds of the dead
    Their songs, thier laughter, their crys
    The all seek to fill the old wolf's head
    He sees images
    of comrades, enemys and friends
    of all the long dead
    they all have meet their end
    The old white wolf
    lays down on the cool walkway
    he rest his head in his paws
    And closes his eyes to the images of those days
    He's lived for centuries
    and ages after that
    his time past long ago
    he long ago excepted that fact
    And so he closes his eyes
    for the last time this day
    And he drifts off to sleep eternal
    to let his soul on the wind carry away
    The people walk past
    still in their daze
    there eyes still unseeing
    still clouded with haze
    The rain still falls
    steady and firm
    drenching the city still
    every hour the cloak turns
    And on the street corner
    in this city of rain
    lays an old white wolf
    finally free of his pain