The Crock Of Gold


We'll live out our lives on this dirty old street,
Only because we just can't compete
But in the concrete of our younger days, we left our names

Just like the people before, when they reached
The distant shore with their drink and their dance,
And their dreams and sincere aims

Ghosts long gone, through old buildings they stare
With their offspring staring at me for they are still there
Dreams that are dead and lives not realized

Why did we write our names in these streets,
To show we're alive?

Well, Chicago is my home and I'll never want to roam,
To live on any sun swept distant shore
Well, it is where I was reared by forbearers so revered,
And I sing the songs that they all sang before

Well, any woman that's neared me
Has been repelled most thoroughly
Still I'm a lover God, I am foremost of all
A musician that's my call of high degree professional
But I'm afraid I do not know my trade at all

And if it's every twenty years
Some small relief to me appears,
Then the crock of gold will wait until that day

To defend myself no more,
Lay the shield of anger at my door
And the sword of alcohol will stow away

All the people in our town are overworked and broken down
Begging cheques but it's just not enough they're giving
Crying quietly, living life so desperately
That something has to make this life worth living

Real life is only a timeline,
And the excitement holds the short times
It will never measure up to what TV sells as great
All the drunken jokes and views,
Exciting pubs they tell the news
But the exciting pats, well, they just weren't all that great

I met a girl one night and enchantment fixed our sight,
So we decided we would hold it for awhile
But she would not love me, so inside me finally said,
"It's not your fault"
But I would like love if only for a while

Well, it's on and on I've seen, yeah that's how it's always been,
And how it will be as ever on I go
Oh, but ever on I will
Through all the banal times until I find some
Place to me that seems like home







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