Gold is free, labile
Faltering, haltering, skewering, faluting
Hidden in everything, everywhere
Up and down the highway
Searching for an old taste of color
When mules were burdened with packs
A long time ago when the vaults were sprung
When a robber gunned his way in
With nowhere to go but straight ahead
Through the scrub brush
Nevada ghost towns on the highway
The Desert Inn, in fleeting fever dreams
A place for a stubborn gamble to pay off
With gold that shines, chase it like a fool
Gold from the stars – from flames so hot
The desert air catches fire at night
But the stars still shiver above
Holy men speaking prophesies of doom
And silence comes all at once
When a whirlwind of no cloud born under the sun spins away
But there is no mule, so just spin away, blind
While Pontiacs and Gremlins rush by on the highway
To country estates with silver tea sets
Wine flasks, and pancakes, and jewels in the safe
Winter comes to the woods, so spin to die in a hollow stump
To never be found again