richard shindell
howling at the trouble
Somewhere out there in the trees Dry leaves stirred up by the breeze Sleeping dog picks up the scent In the the wind he senses  The cracking brance, the swinging gate The distant thunder on the way All of this can by explained As but the trappings of the trouble All the trouble in our hearts  The house so still, the moon so bright You awake, I catch your eye You take my hand to touch your thigh It's time we took hold of the  Curtains blown in by the wind Without a word you take me in Sleeping dog picks up the scent As we chase away the trouble All the trouble in our hearts  The night is hot, the dog has gone Gone out prowling for the dawn You and I are left alone Alone and howling at the trouble