You come down from the mountain.
They lose your scent in the fountain.
You cross over, you cross over, and make it big.
Women whistle while they work, and men make sense when they prevail.
From debtor's jail, you have never looked so beautiful.

"Tread lightly through the fog," said the Apothecary's daughter.
"You don't want to go, but you gotta, into the half-light of dawn."

The elegant attack... the omnivorous, but careful, strokes...
the forger's folks are proud of their son:
he has traded beauty in for fun.
From a sick bed I read the nurse's notes you took the night before.
You made the signs come alive. You made me strive for the door. Oh!

"Tread lightly through the fog," said the Apothecary's daughter.
"You don't want to go, but you gotta, into the half-light of dawn."
"Tread lightly through the fog," said the Apothecary's daughter.
"You don't want to go, but you gotta, into the half-light of dawn."

You come down from the mountain.
You lose the dogs through the fountain.
You cross over, you cross over, and you win