Drink my Jamoka - dirt and all
waiting on a no doubt expensive call
oh as soon as I mend up, I'll crush
waiting on word of the next Gold Rush
What we cannot eat and cannot burn
Lord but it seems to make the world turn
For once damn it I'll win the marathon
When I hear the next gold rush is on
I read you wax sadly angry
about history's arc
I can't argue
these days the contrast is stark
but when my hands overflow I'll pay
it forth
what else could this rush possibly be worth
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