Fleeing the pack (Lyrics)

I noted the burr
in my friend’s fur
 and told him I’d help him out.
And at the feel of the pluck
he started to buck,
 to gnash at my flesh with the foulest of breaths.

I nurse my paw,
from the wrath of his maw
 and say we all need help.
But looking up
I see the tail of the pup
 deserting the pack and our leader’s good rule.

We’ll shout “come back”,
but his form will turn black
 as into the bushes he runs.
Will the voices of reason
defend him from treason?
 Will untouchable folly, untouchable folly,
untouchable folly send him deeper into the wood?