Pure Gold

Is this cold enough? Suitably calculated Is it dark enough? Bold but understated Is it falling over backwards? Is it straining? Does it feel like my own? Does it feel like it's out of my hands? Does it hang there uncertain, insecure? Guess it's pure gold Virgin ears uncovered By some shaky pen The browbeaten unsmothered By some vaporous intent Now they're falling over backwards And they're straining to hear, so I ask now Does it feel like your own? Does it feel like it's out of your hands? Does it hang there uncertain, insecure? Guess it's pure gold Does it feel like our own? Does it feel like it's out of our hands? Does it hang there uncertain, insecure? Guess it's pure gold Guess it's pure gold Guess it's pure gold