Chamberlain Yellow Like Gold
Frail like dreams, I had crossed a thought - thin line
I'd never seen. I know that dreams turn nails to leaves
and this deceiver is someon I can't keep at bay. So I
blame me whenever I let my ghost stray. I blame the
honest man with his heart in his hand. And I come
harboring secrets in the night. Knowing that beneath this
skin lies a man waiting to come alive. This is the sound
thoughts make like ballads from the barrel of a gun. And
I "at my sky blue trades" fade back to where I came from.
I blame the honest man with his heart in his hand.
