gold

Yo, another grey day, same old postcode drama, Rain taps on the pane, feels like a life comma. Sunrise, same hustle, but the fire's gone cold, Used to chase gold, now I just hope to get old. See the friends I grew up with, faces on the poster, Either locked down or lost, now the memory's a ghost here. Can't talk to Mum 'bout the pressure in my dome,