Stampeding into my life, wild things roaring
I flee, as best I can, my hands and feet cold with fright
my heart beating at a crazy jungle rhytm
Whatever it was, those wild ones meant business
fangs, claws and horns, the blood on their faces
all of it reeking of previous murder exploits
How very strange to realize that they were no strangers
that my soul called them, the jungle wasn't outside, but within
maybe they live in my heart, a cosy place for wild things
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-10-05 14:19:22
Last Login: 05.22.12
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