Wesley Blaylock
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Burns The World To Gold

Wesley Blaylock


I sing my saddest songs in stormy weather.
Running from the thunder?
Waiting in the grey until the sun slowly rises and burns
the world to gold.
Love, it burns the world to gold.

Lead my trembling hands to something familiar.
Nameless is the feeling.
Won't somebody point me to myself,
one happy memory, waiting in the distance?
A tiny glimpse of home.

I'm sinking down to the bottom of an ocean.
And I may drown if you can't bring me up for air.

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