Bittern and blue stone
No more elastic fluid, we’re free of vitriol
These trees (they make me feel) remind me of home
This molded crop, these rusted cogs
Oh, how this wasted time has flown
Lady of Gold, I’m coming home
Sun-baked hardcover books
Up against that citronella sting
And I miss those days
Oh, and, the nights with her
This molded crop, these rusted cogs
This time just flew, I’m such a buffoon
Lady of Gold, I’ll be home soon
One more night with her
This molded crop, these rusted cogs
Filled with grime, I won’t get back in time
My Lady of Gold, I’ll just miss you more