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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, our namesJust like the people before

When they reached the distant shore

With their drink and their dance

And their dreams and sincere aimsAll 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 realizedWell, why did we write our names

In these streets to show we're alive?

Alive, alive, alive, aliveWell, Chicago is my home and I'll never went to Roam

To live on any sun swept distant shore

Well, it is that I was reared by forbearer's so revered

And I sing the songs that they all sang beforeWell, any woman that's neared me

Has been repelled most thoroughly

Still I'm a lover, God, I am foremost of allA musician that's my call

Of high degree professional

But I'm afraid that they do not know my trade at allWell, if it's every twenty years

Some small relief to me appears

Then the crock of gold will wait untilUntil that day to defend myself no more

Lay the shield of anger at my door

And the sword of alcohol will stow awayWell, all young people in our town

Are overworked and broken down

Begging cheques but it's just not enough they're givingCrying quietly, living life so desperately

That something has to make

This life worth livingReal life is only a time line

And the excitement holds the short times

It will never measure up to what TV sells as greatAll the drunken jokes and views

Exciting pubs they tell the news

But the exciting pats

Well, they just weren't all that greatWell, if it's every twenty years

Some small relief to me appears

Then the crock of gold will waitUntil that day to defend myself no more

Lay the shield of anger at my door

And the sword of alcohol will stow away, goWell, I met a girl one night

And enchantment fixed our sight

So we decided we would hold it for awhileBut she would not love me

So inside me finally, I 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 goOh, but ever on I will

Through all the banal times until

Well, I find some place

To me that seems like homeWell, and if it's every twenty years

Some small relief to me appears

Then the crock of gold will waitUntil that day to defend myself no more

Lay the shield of anger at my door

And the sword of alcohol will stow awayWell, and if it's every twenty years

Some small relief to me appears

Then the crock of gold will waitUntil that day to defend myself no more

Lay the shield of anger at my door

And the sword of alcohol will stow away

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