FOOLS GOLD

THE YEARS — THEY CHANGE THE TIME WE KNEW.

NOW THEIR GONE — AND OUT OF VIEW.

SO WE TRY AND CHANGE THE VIEW —

BY TASTING LIFE WITH A SILVER SPOON.

THE SMELL OF BLOOD — FROM A NEEDLES POINT —

HAS LEFT YOU BARE — YOUR SOUL — IT’S OUT OF JOINT.

FOOLS — GOLD — FOOLS — DON’T YOU KNOW ?

IT’S TAKEN CONTROL — IT’S TAKEN CONTROL.

THERE’S FIGHTING UP ON THE HILL —

COME ALONG NOW — THEY NEED YOU BILL.

THEY SAY YOU HAVE SUCH A QUICK HAND —

YOU CAN KILL ALMOST ANY MAN.

THEY’LL PAY YOU WELL —

THEY’LL FEED YOU STEAK —

THERE’S WOMEN THERE  — WHEN YOUR BODY ACHES.

JUST SHOOT TO KILL — AND SOON YOU’LL SEE —

YOUR LIVING IN A MERCENARY’S DREAM.

REPEAT CHORRUS

YOUR PARADISE IS AS COLD AS ICE —

YOU SNIFF AND SCRATCH — AS YOUR MONKEY BITES.

YOU FILL YOUR SPOON — WITH YOUR LIQUID GOLD —

AS YOU PASTE A SMILE —

ON YOUR FACE — SO COLD.

YOU ONCE WERE HERE —

NOW YOUR LOST IN SPACE

Steve Rice