Finding Gold
Shoot me now
Shoot me down
Take me out
Take me away
This dangling thread
at the edge of my sanity
Ears are ringing, close to bleeding
Mind is spinning, heart is cold
What's the true meaning of
finding gold
All these dead end promises
Too late to reclaim
Foolish attempt for a crash and burn
Just a hopeful attempt
to find a way back home
Wise to the close the door
even though wisdom is bleak
to the one with the crimson sore
When will our life be labeled our own
When will our life be labeled our own
When the emptiness stops feeding the bore
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