Comments about dave martinez
At night the wolves are a-howling.
At night the wolves gather.
They gathered at your house Mrs. Robbin,
and no one knew they were there.
lost so deep inside of our sheep clothing
had forgotten that we were indeed wolves
and not sheep at all.
We did and always will love you
mother of the lost,
and gatherer of the wolves.
But we, with a carnavorous instinct, and never dimming blood lust,
with wild eyes do stare,
even if we have for a moment forgotten why.