No Pot of Gold

Perhaps I'm mistaken for some other man
though it seems i'm familiar to the touch of you hand
smoke clouds are risin in the blades of the fan
I don't come here often but tonight i've no plan

Though the scene is congested, it seems to grow still
your eyes are inviting and they challenge the will
but i've given my word, so i don't think i will
yet your style's intriguing and i've time to kill

In the hours of contrast that puts us to the test
we shoulder the victories and trample the rest
we reach back in time to cradle and breast
to find we've become an unwelcome guest

my back becomes strained by the burdens of trust
my resistance is weak in the face of your lust
in the moral abyss where the symbols are thrust
integrity shatters and wedding rings rust

is it loneliness knocking on unanswered doors
That drives me to drink with these merchants n' whores?
or pent up emotion that i tend to store
in mindless endeavors that neutor and bore

we live out our lives in the garden that grows
between windows that open and doorways that close
We answer on impulse to rules unnapproved
and to destitute love that serves only fools

i will visit again on the shores of my soul
when the night opens up and swallows me whole
Goodnight, pretty miss, play the hand that you hold
at the end of the rainbow there's no pot of gold.

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