It is the taste of a fond memory that is sweeter than any dream
Under the crust of time\'s raising rust gold increases its glowing sheen
Avarice grows in dust filling of corrosion that enhances its desire
Cold hands warmed by fanned flames of an oven\'s fantom fire
Flecks that shine through murky mud, hard pips of greed
It is from the illusion of a recollection that falls the forbidden seed