Twice an era comes a knock at my door
Suspended in a window-crashing gaze of a poor
Spark of recognition, it's the thrill that dies first but
I can think of something worse: the curse, because
Light up gold
Was the colour of something I
Was looking for
[x2]
Steady was the pace kept in that tear-leaking sway
Sifting like a miner in the conscience debris
Hunched down, gleaning embers from a burning field
Trying to find something warm and real because
Light up gold
Was the colour of something I
Was looking for
[x4]
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