You  the writer knew

You  the writer cared

Sold are things once told

Old are things once bold

The diamonds and the gold they are for real

Depending on the way they make you feel

We can touch the sky

You  oh you and I

Oh I can count to two

We can count to three

I line them up and they stare back at me

Creations in the mind and soul of me

Drift fall
Blue call
You  the writer knew

You  the writer cared

Diamonds and the gold they are for real

Depending on the way they make you feel