Old Gold

Old Gold - 36 Crazyfists

Written by：Steve Holt/Brock Lindow

Holding on to sickness kept me tied to the road of old

What was once a hand of faith turned to rust from gold

Weakening position where I place my eyes alone

There is loss all around there is birth again I know

Pull me out of the dirt

Let the light cleanse me

Second chances were mean to

Divide the death of our woes

Of our woes

I'm surfacing again

Let the light come clean my bones

From the ice and snow below

It's buried deep in hope

Clean my bones

In ice and snow

Deep in hope

Old gold

Violence the color outweighs lines of magnitude

Where a cold brush with death makes it hard enough to chew

Poisonous the bottle that takes shape in solitude

Where the numbing outlives hell until the ends just come unglued

Pull me out of the dirt

Let the light cleanse me

Second chances were mean to

Divide the death of our woes

Of our woes

I'm surfacing again

Let the light come clean my bones

From the ice and snow below

It's buried deep in hope

Clean my bones

In ice and snow

Deep in hope

Deep in hope

Old gold

Empty the tank leave it all on the floor

Empty the tank leave it all

Better to breathe in the sinking of the coast

Inside the throats inside the throes of the bend

I'm surfacing again

Let the light come clean my bones

From the ice and snow below

It's buried deep in hope

Clean my bones

In ice and snow

Deep in hope

Deep in hope

Clean my bones