DESCRIPTION:
I'll tell you pretty girl just what I would do
If you should ever prove that your love is untrue
I would divebomb the river sink way way down
I'd drown myself, wear a deathly frown
well the soul of a man is a terrible thing
makes fools of paupers, prophets and kings.

Ridin' a horse that we set on fire
tightroping down a telegraph wire
The light from her eyes well it does paralyze
It's sees through sheep's clothing and other disguise
well the soul of a man is a terrible thing
makes fools of paupers, prophets and kings.

Well theres cracks in the wall and spiders in the hall
Through the muck and the mire I scramble and crawl
I reach for your hand but it turns to sand
it crumbles it's gone with the wind
well the soul of a man is a terrible thing
makes fools of paupers, prophets and kings.