A new mountain range lines the horizon, br Black against the rising sun's golden sky. br My dog pays it no mind br And though I know it for illusion, br Just clouds from last night's storm piled high, br Certainly just illusion, br I still think of unhooking her leash br And setting off into the unknown: br To trap furs in some clean valley br To stake a claim by some fast flowing stream, br Perhaps to find a golden city br Peopled by credulous primitives br Whose first Middle American am I, br Perhaps to stand on the highest point, my Darien, br And look across an uncharted glittering ocean. br Our six feet turn from habit for home. br She's never once looked at the sky, br And knowing it illusion, br I bid all hope, goodbye.