The Woods are Waiting
Come into the woods with me,
the wolves of the wilderness are far friendlier than those hiding behind masks, here in the city.
We’ll shed our civilian skins,
Build a cottage on the lake.
Sun-bathed summers,
Shacked-up white winters,
we’ll be our own company.
An old radio and a record player,
We’ll sing our own lyrics to all the songs,
we’ll budget for paint,
walls that change colour as quickly as the seasons.
Never work again,
We’ll just melt into bed,
You and I, and the star-filled sky.
