Tonight, break this spell,

we can build a fire,

create a new tune,

like a fluorescent light in a dark room,

like the sepal of a flower wanting to bloom,

like the man in his swings,

reasoning about mindless things,

so, tonight, we can build a fire.


The plot begins with you,

he’d go back as if nothing ever happened,

laces fastened, it’s only three miles away,

the kingdom would still be built- the empire.

You pelted across, after the fall;

wasn’t comfortable with it at all.

Remember when everything you did

was for the sheer pleasure of doing it.

The pages,

the chapters,

won’t ever be burned,

isolated in the eyes,

we can build a fire.


The thrills,

the delights,

and the pale moon,

wouldn’t lead a sensation as pleasing as the nearness of you,

he wears it like his favorite perfume,

and he doesn’t know,

how he’ll slow it down.

Holding on ever so tight and then breaking apart,

burial shred of the heart,

forever, tattered;

as the only one who possessed the map,

teared it up- into a million, little, pieces.

But tonight, we can build a fire.


Could they call it end so easily?

He could never be a face in the crowd,

too weak, too much,

to fight off,

he can’t help in all himself,

he’s got to see you again,

just to live it in a dream,

to share them, with you;

tear it all apart,

and we can build a fire.


Game changes,

so, spin, and bet,

go up, call it, upstart it;

outside the links,

and tonight, we can build a fire,

because apparently, the sun doesn’t like him,

gets him burnt, every time,

and so we will, build a fire.


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