Behind the counter stood on crutches made of wood
A one-legged girl with blue-grey eyes, warm and wise.
I fled from that place and from that lovely face
That the one-legged girl stole my heart and I need help.
Cold November morning, buried under trees.
I would stay here all day long except I have to eat.
Crack the woods, crack them open both with shovels and yells.
Got to find little people, got to ask for their help.
And I tell them
If I could run fast, as fast as the Flash
Or be as cool as Ash in Army of Darkness.
If I were a Gai-King or maybe a Viking,
Stronger than the Thing then I could win the one-legged girl.
Getting close to nighttime, running out of steam.
By now I know my family’s looking and they’ll know right where I’ll be.
Spy the eyes in the twilight, small and bright, warm and wise.
Little hats, little fingers, and a flask full of wine.
And I’d tell them
If my hand were wheels and if my feet were wheels
Then I could roll over all of my rivals.
If I could cast a spell or do something swell
So that she could tell I was worth her attention.
Arms drag me away.
The little eyes wink out.
Stuffed inside my pocket is a flask of wine.
Now I can run as fast as the Flash
Or be as cool as Ash in Army of Darkness.
Now I’ll be a Gai-King or maybe a Viking,
Stronger than the Thing.
Now I can win the one-legged girl!In the year of the famine
When starvation and black death raged across the land
There were many driven by their hunger
To set sail for the Americas
In search of a new life and a new hope
Oh but there were some who couldn't cope
And they spent their life
In search of fool's gold
The old prospector
He makes it to the four lane highway
His old compadre
Lies dead in the sand
With outstretched hands
He cries, "Are you going my way?"
The people passing by don't seem to understand
The curse of fool's gold
Broken Joe just lying in a gutter
He's gone as low as any man can be
He calls for wine but they'll only serve him water
The bartender say "We don't sell sympathy"
He tells a strange story
About his father
How Sunday mornings they'd go down
To the church on the corner
As time grows older
His thoughts they grow younger
It is his wish
To search no longer for fool's gold
The vulture sits on top
Of the big top circus arena
He's seen this show before
Knows someone is going to fall
Just near the part
Where the beautiful dancing tightrope ballerine
Forgets that the safety net
Isn't there at all
Down he swoops with claws drawn to take her
Razor sharp so savagely is she mauled
Oh my god, is there no one who can save her?
In steps the fox to thunderous applause
Fool's gold