He told me he liked things special.
Liked things different.
To be on the edge.

So I set myself on fire,
painted myself with the colours of flames,
lit myself with gasoline and gave him a blazing fire.

And when he got too close to the flames,
he told me I tore him apart.
That I was the reason he strayed away.
Why he had a reason to be safe
from the danger he made me into,
and fell into the arms
of a girl who he hadn't asked to change instead.