My God what have I done
the stone has been turned
Moss now on the south side
fools gold found underneath

And I stand holding my prize
shimmering in the fog
rolling in from an eastern coast
coating my heart now bleeding

At what cost this prize,
the smile,  the trust of a friend
skipped across the ripples of life
and tomorrow never comes

Yet I hold this gold...fool's precious metal
alone in the dusty confines
of a leather pouch,  untied, un - knotted
that once held our hearts