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• Artiste: Sharks
• Titre: Gold
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Roll your sleeves Everybody leaves on a dare Their sunken eyes and their deeply hollow stares It's fear of becoming something that they are not It's a constraint of my idea Terrible waste I've made of sarcasm All clued up down here Whatever makes it less bitter Some mental strain at such a callow age And now my heart cages and vents in leaps and bounds It's fear of becoming someone lesser It's a constant weight we do endeavor Terrible waste I've made of sarcasm All clued up down here Whatever makes you feel kinder Whatever makes it harder to forget When you're losing control all tied up down here Maybe it's a curse I live on the verge of a nervous breakdown for you I happily immerse, and my intentions stay gold Just like you