I think we died inside a fire
About eight years ago.
I think my mouth is still on fire.
It smokes and singes, crackling,
brings to light every one of your fears.
I was brushing your back when we walked in the woods,
You never doubted your god half as well as I could
With confident wants, but wavering shoulds,
I'm confident that with one chance I would.
I could ruin you.
I think we died inside a fire,
About four days ago
I think your skin is still on fire,
It melts itself and molds into every evil thing that I can say
Step back, sit down separately, but mentally intact
while we telegraph the sicknesses the other one was lacking in.
You are draining in your confidence
and I am overwhelming confident.
and I could ruin you.
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