Yellow Like Gold

Frail like dreams, I had crossed a thought - thin line I'd never seen. I know that dreams turn nails to leaves and this deceiver is someon I can't keep at bay. So I blame me whenever I let my ghost stray. I blame the honest man with his heart in his hand. And I come harboring secrets in the night. Knowing that beneath this skin lies a man waiting to come alive. This is the sound thoughts make like ballads from the barrel of a gun. And I "at my sky blue trades" fade back to where I came from. I blame the honest man with his heart in his hand.