Wolves at the Door Songtext

Vices are prone to burn holes in my pockets
And they're dryin' up my well
But every so often there's a forgotten cost
And a ringin' on my bell
And when I decided to make like I died they got wise

The sun it was sunny, but I feel downpour
The man wants my money, the wolves at the door
He held out his hand, but I feel down poor
He smiled with my money, the wolves at the door