I believe this tin and flimsy love

To be treasure--sleek and solid gold.

Tin or treasure, piled or pressed in canyons deep,

A love impeded is worth the work to me.

I don't give a damn at all.

I don't give a damn if all our dreams are steep in decline.

My daily trouble clearing rubble and rock is to make a way to you.

And I don't give a damn that all your work goes filling in mine.

Where dreams erode, a hot canyon air might blow.

I'm proceeding as if you believe in this.

I'm proceeding, braced for the long haul.

Declinations will be met with pick and power.

I'm proceeding as if you believe in me.

I don't give a damn if all our dreams are steep in decline.

My daily trouble clearing rubble and rock is to make a way to you.

And I don't give a damn that all your work goes filling in mine.

Where dreams erode, a hot canyon air might blow.

Why it is that we never kiss too long?

Why it is that a stoniness might linger too?

You're so remote, afraid of what air might blow

From my unobstructed throat.

I don't give a damn at all.

I don't give a damn if all our dreams are steep in decline.

My daily trouble clearing rubble and rock is to make a way to you.

And I don't give a damn that all your work goes filling in mine.

Where dreams erode, a hot canyon air might blow.