| Song | The Gold We're Digging |
| Artist | Parts & Labor |
| Album | Mapmaker |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Parts & Labor | |
| There's something in the gold that we're digging | |
| The ground is sore but the axe still falls | |
| And still we mine for fame and for fortune | |
| And fall asleep each night against the bankrupt walls | |
| Your instruments | |
| Your tools for removal | |
| Their every swing just quotes the ghosts of other tries | |
| So heavy now it gets hard to remember | |
| How they ever could have felt so light | |
| Your lungs collapse | |
| Semi-precious but necessary | |
| You can clutch at dust or run for open sky | |
| Outside the walls | |
| Escaping birds chase the air | |
| Bursting out into that real world blinding light | |
| There's something in the gold we're digging | |
| There's something in the air down here | |
| Will you hold whatever hand will have you | |
| Will you be what's needed year to year |
| zuo qu : Parts Labor | |
| There' s something in the gold that we' re digging | |
| The ground is sore but the axe still falls | |
| And still we mine for fame and for fortune | |
| And fall asleep each night against the bankrupt walls | |
| Your instruments | |
| Your tools for removal | |
| Their every swing just quotes the ghosts of other tries | |
| So heavy now it gets hard to remember | |
| How they ever could have felt so light | |
| Your lungs collapse | |
| Semiprecious but necessary | |
| You can clutch at dust or run for open sky | |
| Outside the walls | |
| Escaping birds chase the air | |
| Bursting out into that real world blinding light | |
| There' s something in the gold we' re digging | |
| There' s something in the air down here | |
| Will you hold whatever hand will have you | |
| Will you be what' s needed year to year |
| zuò qǔ : Parts Labor | |
| There' s something in the gold that we' re digging | |
| The ground is sore but the axe still falls | |
| And still we mine for fame and for fortune | |
| And fall asleep each night against the bankrupt walls | |
| Your instruments | |
| Your tools for removal | |
| Their every swing just quotes the ghosts of other tries | |
| So heavy now it gets hard to remember | |
| How they ever could have felt so light | |
| Your lungs collapse | |
| Semiprecious but necessary | |
| You can clutch at dust or run for open sky | |
| Outside the walls | |
| Escaping birds chase the air | |
| Bursting out into that real world blinding light | |
| There' s something in the gold we' re digging | |
| There' s something in the air down here | |
| Will you hold whatever hand will have you | |
| Will you be what' s needed year to year |