ain’t gonna toss my coins no more
I’m gonna drown my book
put the laminates back in the pack, Jack,
they never did me no good —
and every gypsy that passed me by
turned away with a tear in her eye.
Zero for future, zero for past,
and zero for present time.

I’m a heavy bettor, I’m a fate-abettor,
I’m a peer and muttering fool,
looking for omens, black crows roaming,
sharks swimming into schools —
and every leaf of grass and every passing cloud
says you don’t want to know.
Well it’s fire on the mountain and blood in the fountain,
symbols of time’s undertow.

Tell the future,
Sell the past,
All of the middle between
First and Last,
Optimistic,
pessimistic,
Just another two-bit mystic.

Oh, Dante was a stern and righteous poet,
he journeyed down to hell,
in every circle he saw the poor sinners,
they got up and fell,
and in the eighth circle he saw the soothsayers,
their heads turned around on their necks —
their eyes looking straight into the past,
tears running down their backs.