His life spent jumping fences and somehow forgetting the sign that said no trespassing. If he had listened to that he would have never made it out of his backyard

Armed with nothing but his backpack and some dreams, he set out among the trees. In search of questions that even the wisest of men have not asked.

Theres nothing left to do
But burn the memories of you

Strike the match, create a spark, I find myself detach, find a way through the dark
The fire burns
Something in me still yearns to hear you one more time, but I know memories of you cant return

My hands stained with ash
Thinking of you I hack and slash
My heart and mind clash and crash. Left with the whiplash

My clothes smell of smoke
Remembering how it feels for my heart to be broke
Tearing up the feelings you invoke
Wishing we never even spoke
Feeding the fire I continue to stoke

I know theres nothing left that I can do
Everything has to burn through
Every last memory of you