Down there in the valley, where the lunatics play parts, until the cinema doors open and the latest movie starts, there's a Mexican with gold bars that are strapped into his trousers,
and down among the lunatics are the freemen, rebel rousers, it gets hard to make their features out as the silver screen lights eerily ,with blinkers sat across his eyes he stands alone and wearily,
calls to the main assembly, 'I'm waiting  for you and I'm here' but no one seems to notice him,
as Robert Redford rides a bike, he bites into a burrito, no sense in wasting good food and there's nowhere else that he can go, the gold bars start to melt and yet he's never once felt so alone, he wonders what is wife is at when he's so far away from home.

The lunatics are filing through the exit doors and who's to say, if what is madness here and now is going to be madness on another day.

The Mexican prepares a feast but no one comes except for me but
he's not in the least perturbed,
he did it once before and no one came then, so it's no surprise ,when looking in his eyes I see a medal made of bronze for me, a runner up in history, no golden ingots hidden there,
just questions and I wonder why
he came.