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British Theatre
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Gold Bruise
Gold Bruise
The boy that shot the bullet decked in yellow gold
pulled out of the river angel's hair for rope
tried and sold on this edited tale
the sound that's in sea shells all of it saved in takes
broadened walls behind the spies
all the strangers battle cries are back to front wrong to right
nothing cradles you through all your crimes
you should be calling time and bursting bubbles
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but after all this time you couldn't care less
hangs on a wire inside her lives in golden grass longer laughs
let down your hair a blessed curse
can't be worse i'll wear it well my golden bruise
all in stride it's all frustrating you
all these steps are back to front wrong to right nothing cradles you all this time you should've called….
you should be calling time and bursting bubbles
if after all this time you couldn't care less.
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