Pyrite

Pyrite

 

I am made of nothing.

You are made of gold.

You swim, you sing,

you soar and you dance.

I'm out just drowning in the sunshine,

trying to drink in the moonlight.

You're always parched of thirst,

when you're nothing.

You're always blind from dreaming in gold.

Sickly shining.

Without a body to trap in a soul,

nothing can't even come gold plated.

I can't even match the pyrite of your insides.

If there's a heart in your gold suited chest,

with your perfect skinned throat,

sing me down the stars.

I'll settle for silver starlight instead.