Mojave's Molten Gold
By sunlight slipping, soundless, flying fast inside the cave;
my shadow's laughing ghost smells musty riches, my greed's beau.
Far down the depths, I dive more deep, and seek gold's flowing wave.
There's no rest or stopping, sad canary's wing's drooping low.
Surly Sam a snortin' snarls, dancin' clackety click n' clack.
There's Gnashin' Nate a hissin', his sticky, snotty warning.
Ripe-Rottin' Randy, Festered Fred, they peer; you don't look back.
Expect their wrath if sneaking back with their gold adorning.
This endless cavern greets my ceaseless fall down this abyss.
But, gold's in rivers flowing warmly, waiting for a swim;
no turning back and no regrets, this chance I cannot miss.
I must reach bottom soon, (is this a dream come true or whim?)
Oh, forsaken desert, hellish hot, left somewhere up above.
They think I've long since passed away. I plunge for wealth untold!
So, let them grieve, they'll soon forget. I've no more need of love.
This ghost dives through the fire! I reach Mojave's molten gold.
The metal's soft as I have dreamed, and youth adorns again.
I dance the dance of riches found; the devil takes his toll.
Old Satan frowns, more than before, at one sad-lonely sin.
I'd made the Devil's deal with nothing but my fool's gold soul.
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