Gold Dust on My Collarbone (wersja 2)

Verse

Bus stopped at the crossroads for the sixth time that day

Engine coughed and sputtered, driver didn't say a word

Two hundred people shifting like one slow tide

Old woman's rosary beads clicking out the road I'm leaving behind

Sixteen years of waiting for a job to call my own

Same four walls, same cracked mirror, same worn-out shoes

Told myself the day before was different, wasn't mine to own

Every morning since then been chasing that same groove

Pre-Chorus

So what if I don't make it, what if this is all I'm made of

Tell me something beautiful comes from nothing, that's enough for now

Chorus

I found gold dust on my collarbone, the dust of every day we're broke

Found a rhythm in a waiting line where I used to choke

It's not the job that's gonna save us, it's the way we hold the flame

Counting every hour that still feels like home

Verse

Taxi driver sang along to static, nobody knew the tune

Old man playing trumpet on a bench outside the market booth

Strangers shared their last three dollars to get me one mile closer

Some days the only blessing is you learn what you're made of when it's broken and slower

Broke my own mirror that same week catching rain off the ledge

Reflected this face I never knew, no makeup, no pride

Watched myself laugh without a reason at something so plain

Every hardship wore a different disguise but all the while still shining bright

Pre-Chorus

So what if I don't make it, what if this is all I'm made of

Tell me something beautiful comes from nothing, that's enough for now

Chorus

I found gold dust on my collarbone, the dust of every day we're broke

Found a rhythm in a waiting line where I used to choke

It's not the job that's gonna save us, it's the way we hold the flame

Counting every hour that still feels like home

Bridge

They'll call me lazy when the checks don't roll through

Tell me how a broken heart is nothing new

But in every corner where they turned you down

I found a beauty I'd have never found standing on the ground

Chorus

I found gold dust on my collarbone, the dust of every day we're broke

Found a rhythm in a waiting line where I used to choke

It's not the job that's gonna save us, it's the way we hold the flame

Counting every hour that still feels like home