burning the last of the papers
the wisps turn from orange to ash
as they fly somewhere to be left alone
having served their purpose
are we done yet?

drudging my efforts from the depths of my purpose
sometimes i feel like this life is worthless
if i can't have you

i'd burn all the pictures
but i never had any with you
i've never been a picture person
but now i wish i had been
so i could remember it all before i throw it away

the wind burns my eyes
i count all my fingers and look at the sky
the smoke is blowing towards home
or what used to be home
i oughta go inside

before i freeze
that's not how i want to be found
it'd be too dramatic
to give up and give in now

close the door