In silver box that’s lined with broken gold
these papers tell of old forgotten nights;
of cooler air than this that filled my chest
surrounding my whole being with such care
One story here was written under stars,
with hints of sentiment engraved so deep

When lovers break the bonds that dig so deep,
their hearts both crumble into darkened gold
A duo surely crafted by the stars
Eternal fate that dies within a night
I’d like to tell this story with great care
to stop this tight sensation in my chest

She held a special place within my chest
her love was bitter black and buried deep
I’d like to think, perhaps, she maybe cared
enough to give me years of solid gold
She gave me lovely dreams most every night
of places even higher than the stars

But now I only look up to the stars
and feel that awful feeling in my chest
What waste to give my hours all those nights
to mellow waves of sadness moving deep
Of all the colors flowing, none are gold
And nowadays I doubt she even cared

I followed the illusion that she cared
and ended up so lost below the stars
The heart she gave was made of phony gold
it sat and festered deep inside my chest
A shallow love that struck within so deep,
and now I only wish that it was night

Perhaps if I could spend just one more night
with someone else who gave such love and care
I’d feel the warm sensation fill me deep,
the charity and kindness of the stars
Another head to lie upon my chest,
a faithful love of real authentic gold

Another night goes by under the stars,
and all the care dies slowly in my chest
so deep within a prison made of gold