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The Sharks

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The Sharks

Gold

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
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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