Waking Eyes (The)
Wolves at the Door
Vices are prone to burn holes in my pocketsAnd they're dryin' up my wellBut every so often there's a forgotten costAnd a ringin' on my bellAnd when I decided to make like I died they got wiseThe sun it was sunny, but I feel downpourThe man wants my money, the wolves at the doorHe held out his hand, but I feel down poorHe smiled with my money, the wolves at the doorPhone calls and and gold-sealed documentationKnockin' on my doorBrow-beating threats, they've been making me sweatThey've been ringing on my bellCollectors and spies and agents of various kinds want moreSo call off your dogs and all hungry mindsThey're shedding their hair and sheeply disguiseSo call off your dogs and leave them behind'Cause I'm not paying a dime
From Letras Mania