Howling at the Moon

Words and music by Bill Price

It's all the same - it's just a game they play
Idiot's inspection - it's just perfection's way

Every time the inspiration enters, it bounces around him like a balloon
Hoisting his heavy heart - soaring together but apart
When he's howling at the moon

He's howling at the moon

Edge of extinction - the distinction shows
Their mock imitations - their limitations will never know

Their perfect polished trophies always seem to tumble sooner than soon
They say he's a culture's broken bridge - signifying on a ridge
Howling at the moon

He's howling at the moon
Fouling - he's fouling up the tune

You'll never hear a midnight call
If you're listening at noon

Nature calls - the coyote falls prey
To those who'll only listen - if it glistens their same old way

They can't hear the whistling wind as it writes its very own tune
They can't comprehend the worth - he touches heaven from the earth
When he's howling at the moon

He's howling at the moon
Fouling - they say he's fouling up the tune

© 2003 Mr. Quill Music (BMI)