Gold Dust
The thing that makes your eyes glitter isn’t always gold dust
The wings you think life’s given you they couldn’t lift a bread crust
A siren in the sky calls my body home
The last remaining high leaves me lowdown and alone
And maps of where you are can be found in every bar
Where those cosy little homilies hang
The thing that makes your eyes glitter isn’t always gold dust
The wings you think life’s given you they couldn’t lift a bread crust
The confidence of kings leaches from my hands
Where jupiter did sing a drunken janitor now stands
To figure who you are you look in every single car
Where they stick those tired sideways looks at life
The thing that makes your eyes glitter isn’t always gold dust
The wings you think life’s given you they couldn’t lift a bread crust
Alone; that ain’t the word
It’s just a groan in the morning nobody ever heard