I was twenty-two and green as summer grass
in a borrowed jacket in a hall of folding chairs
Brent and Michael flew in from Craggy Range
and they needed someone's voice —and I was standing there
Three days of standing three days of talk
I gave them all my English they gave me the rest
Then they counted twenty-one hundred yuan into my hand —
more money than I'd ever held at once
I walked out to the road with everything I had:
a case of wine three bottles we'd begun
sat down on a flower bed because my legs gave out —
or maybe just to let it all sink through
Golden light shining down on me
cash in my pocket wine against my knee
sitting on a flower bed beside the road
twenty-two years old and richer than I'd ever be
Oh golden light shining down on me
Then I found my friends at the place on College Street
poured it into water glasses didn't care a bit
Told them how I did it how I stood up there and spoke —
and the story got a little better every time I told it
Brent Michael —wherever you are now
I don't suppose you'd remember that kid
But I've told this story a hundred times
and every single time I thank you for it
Golden light shining down on me
cash in my pocket wine against my knee
sitting on a flower bed beside the road
twenty-two years old and richer than I'd ever be
Oh golden light shining down on me
Twenty-one hundred and the sun going down
Golden light shining down on me
