Heaven Help The Fool

Lyrics: John Barlow
Music: Bob Weir

This song is one mainly played by Bob Weir with Rob Wasserman or one of his bands. But the Grateful Dead played it several times in 1980 acoustic sets as an instrumental

I was born in Flatland, U.S.A.
And all my dreams lead me to L.A.
Another case of rags to riches
I learned to throw some fancy pitches
And I found out what ain't, and which is
Just exactly cool

Heaven help the fool
Guess I showed the sons of bitches
Heaven help the fool

Got a place in Malibu
Like you've never seen
Pickin' out your lady friends
From Penthouse magazine

You ought to see the chrome gleam
On my new Mercedes
All shiny and new
Hey, I'm the Jack of Diamonds
The boy with all the clues

Lotta pretty vanity
No not me
Glorified insanity
No not me
I'm a hyper-survivor, fast driver, star-driver
Heaven help the fool
Professional gimme-fiver (note 1)
Heaven help the fool

Anything you want to be
You can buy, even get it free
Make yourself a smoother dancer
Fill your head with easy answers
Never a backward glancer
It's you who makes the rules

Heaven help the fool
No, never a backward glancer
Heaven help the fool

The middle of a pentagram
Heart of a star (what you are)
You can trade your soul for an electric guitar

Fool, lotta pretty vanity
No, not me
Fool, glorified insanity
No, not me
When they offer golden apples
Are you sure you'll refuse?
Heaven help the fool
Are you sure you'll refuse?
Heaven help the fool

Just like a deaf man dancin'
Like a blind man shootin' pool
Heaven help the fool