My father, change my name
The one I’ve used til now is covered with fear and filth and cowardice and shame
I, mangled not by the maw, but by the slip,
The cunning writhe by which the jaws were prised

O, the gulf that lies
Between the sign of man
And this feral fire

I know the howl, I know the hound
Fleeing from the trap, into the hunter’s jaws

It comes for me, hunting
Over moors
Though thorn and gorse
Feral footsteps fall
Like a summons to all my foolish blood
It’s coming through the trees

Across the gulf that lies
Betwixt, between the sign of man
And this feral fire
Over chasm’d distance it comes for me
Over moors
Through thorn and gorse
Feral footsteps fall
You are the scent I follow always
Hunting after God

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