The money dropped
Down in a slot and
He held his breath
Cause no-one knows
Just what you feel
The things that you cope with
Got on a bus
Called the 501
Going back again
Only wish you where
Someone else
if just for a minute
You cross the great divide
And bury what's inside
Your paycheque's gone
The blow's not fun
Your paycheque's gone
Said either way now
We both can go
And I won't be missed
The many people
Half scared to death
Of their own reflection
I saw it too
I just told myself
That it doesn't exist
Cause nothing's made of air
Nothing nothing said
Your paycheque's gone
The blow's not fun
And you’re no fun
Yeah you’re no fun
You’re what's gone
The fantastic indie folk songs on the latest from Gold Dust are slathered in gallons of echo, making them feel titanic and 200 feet tall. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 6, 2022