Fools find the gold that shines before the light turns on,
In eyes veiled with splendid tales of hopeless naive words,
Does the card read Ace or Joke, do we bet or do we fold?
Can we read the changing winds before the sails unfurl?
Anchored in the stream,
Ambitions like the weather,
Hard black streaks between my thumb and finger,
Don’t wait for me,
I won’t be done till later,
When the sun finds it's fullness over this inked weather.
Woman lose their hard earned souls over half a dollar,
With faces veiled as the ship, she sails and is torn asunder,
Faint and reflective, she sits with poise, staring in the mirror,
Heart of gold or a hollow cold, treading down the river.
Sailor speak of the sirens song,
For this tale I’ve waited long,