Gold

What you see is what you get

My roots... it’s kind of aching

My mind is kind of sore

My streets sometimes dirty

the crowd wants some more

My body... a collision

Of pride and control

Underneath my red

dress

A skin made of gold

What you see is what you get

What you see is what you get

I see a woman with a soul

I see a city no one controls

What you see is what you get