I live in the forest
Eat mostly roots and leaves
I don’t bother anybody
I don’t care what anybody believes
My father was a timberwolf
My mother was a constellation
Seems my whole life I’ve been on my own
I got no known relations
     I’m the last of me

I did a little traveling
Back in my younger days
Don’t remember what I was looking for
It all got lost in the haze
But somewhere along the line
I guess I learned to keep myself hid
Nothing changed for such a long, long time
And then everything did

And I’ve seen you out there with your cameras
I’ve heard your dogs howling in the mist
Why would you want to own anything
You don’t even believe exists?

I can’t sing, I can’t dance
I don’t know any tricks
All I got is what I am
And what I am is something you can’t fix
You say you want to solve this mystery
What’s going on behind that fur?
What I am is what you don’t know
In every photograph I’m that blur

And you’ve looked for me in the Great Northwest
And in the woods behind your local Wal-Mart
You’ve looked for me nearly everywhere
Except the wildness of your heart

Your little village down in the valley
Looks so peaceful on a cold winter’s night
With the smoke from your chimneys and the snow around your doorsteps
And every window filled up with light
Reminds me of  a song or a story I heard
Some ancient rhythm from when the world was young
About a moon so full and a star so bright . . .
Just saying your name can burn my tongue

And I’ve seen you out there with your cameras
I’ve heard your dogs howling in the mist
Why would you want to own anything
That scares you as much as this?

The sky is clear tonight
Trucks on the highway moan
Stars are bright in Cassopeia
Mama, bring me home