The wind picked up, the fire spread
The bridges were left for dead
The northern skies looked like the end of days,
the end of my days.
A wake-up call to my rented room
It sounded like an alarm of inpending doom
to warn me, it’s only a matter of time.
Before I burn.
I bought some wine and some paper cups,
near your brothers school, where he picked you up
and I drove to a cemetery on a hill, on a hill.
The news reports on the radio said it was getting worse
as the open air, fanned the flames
I couldn’t think of anywhere I would have rather been
to watch it all burn away.
I’ll burn away.
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