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Golden Apples, Pt. III

de Galt MacDermot

Nothing but dust in these streets,
I'm kicking up memories that belong beneath my feet.
Such a long road to find hope,
then you just crawl up and sink right into me,

hey, I feel you seep in,
I know you're deep beneath my skin,
hey, I feel you seep in,
I hold you deep within my bones.

If the rocks below were coming up close,
yeah, I'm just thinking about how I probably wouldn't notice.
My head's such a beautiful mess:
yeah, It's just you, It's just you, all over the place.

And look what we become,
your rising skyline,
beneath the sun.

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