Sarah and the Sundays
Golden
The golden ray
That caught us all by storm
Won't walk away
Will leave me feeling
Weathered and worn
I sometimes wish
I wasn't born
Wasn't born
I'm always feeling
Somewhat torn
Somewhat torn
The sun-dried shell
So bleakly immature
A lonesome hell
In deep pursuit of
A civil war
I sometimes wish
I wasn't born
Wasn't born
I'm always feeling
Somewhat torn
Somewhat torn