The Gold We're Digging

There's something in the gold that we're digging

The ground is sore but the axe still falls

And still we mine for fame and for fortune

And fall asleep each night against the bankrupt walls

Your instruments

Your tools for removal

Their every swing just quotes the ghosts of other tries

So heavy now it gets hard to remember

How they ever could have felt so light

Your lungs collapse

Semi-precious but necessary

You can clutch at dust or run for open sky

Outside the walls

Escaping birds chase the air

Bursting out into that real world blinding light

There's something in the gold we're digging

There's something in the air down here

Will you hold whatever hand will have you

Will you be what's needed year to year