a fifth on decoration day    For the doctor that fixed my arm   The federales back from Tuscon    Each one got an arm gone      Limehouse Pratt got dim inside can't see   The painted ladies run around at night   A wood-paneled room, my cigarette fumes   Waltz and dissolve just for you.      There's gonna be a truce    There's gonna be a truce   There's gonna be a truce   But first you got to set your horses loose      A jaguar simmering in a cage   Give him a chance   Can you tell the answer from the ants   History's got it's walking papers    Can't get enough of the make-up that makes it look so tough      Well, it seems just like a freeze out   Well, it seems just like a freeze out   Well, it seems just like a freeze out   An undisclosed, deeply-wooded lose your way route.