There is this old woman
She lives down the road
You can often find her
Kneeling inside of her hole
And i often ask her
«are you looking for the mother lode?»
Huh?
No.
No my child, this is not my desire
And then she said
I’m digging for fire
I’m digging for fire
I’m digging for fire
I’m digging for fire
There is this old man