Lone wolf baying at the moon in sorrow
Riding alone, waiting for tomorrow
Searching day and night for some fellow hounds
Oh too familiar with silent sounds
The frogs croak, the crickets chirp, the owl hoots
Familiar sounds, until the Hunter shoots
Running from the danger wanting some help
Grazed by the bullet, crying out a yelp
Limping along the forest ground waiting
For the end to come, no hope in running
Dying alone seems to be a cruel thought
Lying in the dirt for the worms to wrought
Giving him the lonely end was Gods crime
The lone wolf will bay at the moon, one last time