| Somewhere in a market square
|
| The cobblestone still shine
|
| Glassy eyes behold the sight
|
| Through another cup of wine
|
| One eyed jester skips and turns
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| As he makes his way through the crowd
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| While the tavern’s royalty try not to laugh aloud
|
| Jester does another spin
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| Then falls to the floor
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| A show of hands, a short «Hurrah!»
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| A plea for him to do more
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| Ease of laughter comes so fast
|
| When you’re not in a jester’s shoes
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| 'Cause when you’ve only fool’s gold
|
| You’ve got nothing more to lose
|
| Who holds the riches
|
| The jester or the king?
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| A fortress made from fool’s gold
|
| Or the tears that treasure can bring?
|
| Who holds the riches
|
| The jester or the king?
|
| A fortress made from fool’s gold
|
| Or the tears that treasure can bring?
|
| The king he sits upon his throne
|
| The worlds weight on his chest
|
| When your mind begins to race
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| You’ve got no time a rest
|
| «Where is my clown?
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| I need him now, to take my troubles away»
|
| The harlequin rushes in as his work begins for the day
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| The harlequin rushes in as his work begins for the day
|
| While somewhere in a market square
|
| The cobblestones still shine |