This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
I live in Baghdad. I had a million dollars
After that last bad investment, I live in squalor
Still got a grandiose house, but it’s run down
Jackals take possession of it promptly at sundown
On account of the holes in the walls. So, I sleep in the yard
Huddled by the fountain, ground is keeping it hard
I’d be deeply alarmed if I weren’t so depressed
Keep an eye on the stars, I guess. Get some rest
As I drift off, feel like I hear a voice whispering
“Despair in due time, take comfort in the interim.”
I’m listening. “Step to the west in the early air
Your fortune is in Cairo. Regain it if you journey there.”
Oh no, I don’t know if I could trust a dream
Has one ever been what it seems?
Oh no, I don’t know if I could trust a dream
What it keeps on promising
Cairo is quite a ways away
I’m hitch-hiking on carts, got my vulnerable parts displayed:
My neck, my hope, and my desperation
By the time I get to Damascus, half sick with exasperation
At my own propensity for delusion
Some dreams are visions, but only illusions
And with my sandal worn to nothing, wander past a pyramid
This is Cairo, isn’t it? Wonder where my treasure’s hid?
It isn’t in front of me. Well, okay. I take a seat
Get arrested immediately for vagrancy
This my reward for venturing abroad:
Chuck me in the clink, lash me to sleep with a palm rod
Three days later, dragged before the magistrate
Thirty-fifth most important dude in the caliphate
Asks me why I came so far if I’ve got nothing
To my name but my gumption. I explain how I’ve got crushing
Doubts, about my faith in a voice that had come in the night
He laughs in my face, his hind teeth are bright white
Says he had that dream — of Baghdad — thrice
And the voice in it, offering specific advice:
“Seek a high style manor where a jackal is lord
Dig up a fortune in the courtyard.” This he ignored
As he assured me any wise man would. Guess I’m silly, then
Back to Baghdad, unearth my new millions
After that last bad investment, I live in squalor
Still got a grandiose house, but it’s run down
Jackals take possession of it promptly at sundown
On account of the holes in the walls. So, I sleep in the yard
Huddled by the fountain, ground is keeping it hard
I’d be deeply alarmed if I weren’t so depressed
Keep an eye on the stars, I guess. Get some rest
As I drift off, feel like I hear a voice whispering
“Despair in due time, take comfort in the interim.”
I’m listening. “Step to the west in the early air
Your fortune is in Cairo. Regain it if you journey there.”
Oh no, I don’t know if I could trust a dream
Has one ever been what it seems?
Oh no, I don’t know if I could trust a dream
What it keeps on promising
Cairo is quite a ways away
I’m hitch-hiking on carts, got my vulnerable parts displayed:
My neck, my hope, and my desperation
By the time I get to Damascus, half sick with exasperation
At my own propensity for delusion
Some dreams are visions, but only illusions
And with my sandal worn to nothing, wander past a pyramid
This is Cairo, isn’t it? Wonder where my treasure’s hid?
It isn’t in front of me. Well, okay. I take a seat
Get arrested immediately for vagrancy
This my reward for venturing abroad:
Chuck me in the clink, lash me to sleep with a palm rod
Three days later, dragged before the magistrate
Thirty-fifth most important dude in the caliphate
Asks me why I came so far if I’ve got nothing
To my name but my gumption. I explain how I’ve got crushing
Doubts, about my faith in a voice that had come in the night
He laughs in my face, his hind teeth are bright white
Says he had that dream — of Baghdad — thrice
And the voice in it, offering specific advice:
“Seek a high style manor where a jackal is lord
Dig up a fortune in the courtyard.” This he ignored
As he assured me any wise man would. Guess I’m silly, then
Back to Baghdad, unearth my new millions
Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher
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