Frank Black
"Lone Child"


I don't like you much
I am like a wolf
I'm not full of your hate
I'm full of my grace
See here my face
I am a king

See the empty stage
See there's nothing there
Save your ounce of despair
Your once wasted air
Your devil-may-care poisonings

Lone child, born wild
No childish things
Lone child, born wild
No tribal strings

I'll be moving on, creeping off the stage
I'll be tearing you out, tearing you down
I'm growling now in the wings

Lone child, born wild
No childish things
Lone child, born wild
No tribal strings