Dust – Daan – letras

sceneson flat screens that lighten my sheetson corners of soaking wet streetsreminders of long gone defeatsI traded for clocks that don¹t runcause time was no friend of my lustwhile turning my gold into dustbrokemy back easy stones trying to fingmy head stuck from looking behindat towers that rose from the sandwith blisters on my wooden handsfor digging for better we mustwhile turning my gold into dustsonow that I¹m cured for my driveand sentenced to my easy lifeI cheated with all of my cardsrefusing the dust only starsjudging the globe by the crustwhile turning my gold into dustwhile turning my gold into dustwhile turning my gold into dust