Texty: Herman Düne. They Go To The Woods. Black Dog.

She was waiting for someone or something
Sitting on the bench
In between the 4 towels that I love,
And where I go and walk my dog.
She had herself a big black dog:
Barking at me, willing to bite me.
"Black dog, I'll never harm you,
BD what a joy to see you!"

She was wearing a warm coat with a hood,
But still, I could see her lips.
It was one of those suburban December evenings.

One hand in the pocket,
The other held a cigarette.
I could breath by watching her
Having this so delightful smoke
At the hour when it becomes darker:
Black dog.