Текст Gord Bamford – Gold To Me

That scratched up humming bird
Hanging on a wall with a broken wing
Can’t put a price on what it’s worth
Even with them rusty string

That’s gold to me
I love to hold her close and hear it breathe
Precious gold to me
A work of art cut from the heart
Of some lonely old spruce tree
One of one under the sun
A master’s masterpiece
Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
Gold to me

She said it’s been broken back
Walked out on and left for dead
It still beats but it’s got cracks
From cupid’s arrowheads
It used to love deep and true
But after being so
?
She finds security
In the shallow where it treads

That’s gold to me
I love to hold her close and feel her breathe
Precious gold to me
She’s a work of art cut from the stars
By the hands that hold the seas

I know those little angel babies
We made out of true love
Are more precious than anything
Anything under heaven above

Gold to me
I love to hold ’em close and feel them breathe
Precious gold to me
They’re a work of art cut from the stars
By the hands that hold the seas
They’re one of one under the sun
A master’s masterpiece
Whoa-oh, whoa-oh
Gold to me
Gold to me