This gold bar will oxidize more
Rusting onto my hand
There is blood on this marble floor
Stained glass windows are only sand

There is a crown split in four
There are holes in the door
And this is the life you call luxury?

You made these diamonds with chemicals
And try to bribe me with emeralds
But I will not let them touch me

What turns to ash?
What turns to fame?
What is cash?
What is a name?

Our lights are as bright as gold
Twinkling stars over my head
They turn green, turn to mold
I turn to hope instead