Becoming a Jackal ...

... is a song by the Villagers. The lyrics reminds me a little of the portraits painted by Lucian Freud, not sure why ...

The most familiar room 

Every implement was leading to you
And your homely sense of dissaray
Never once the same
Always rearranged
But things would never change
In the seam between the window frame
Where the jackals preyed on every soul
Where they tied you to a pole
And stripped you of your clothes

I was a dreamer
Staring at windows
Out onto the main street
Cause that's where the dream goes

And each time they found fresh meat to chew
I would turn away and return to you
You would offer me your unmade bed
Feed me till I'm fed
And read me till I'm read
But when the morning came
You would catch me at the window again 

In an eyes wide open sleeping state
Staring into space
With no look upon my face 

I was a dreamer
Staring at windows
Out onto the main street
Cause that's where the dream goes

And when I got older
When I grew older
Out onto the streets I flew

Released from your shackles
I danced with the Jackals
And learned a new way to move
So before you take this song as truth
You should wonder what I'm taking from you
How I benefit from you being here
Lending me your ears
While I'm selling you my fears