Call me, Even if it's 3 a.m., And I am dead to the world. Every fire pit eventually has to go out, But even those cold ash embers Are kept warm by the lively ones That have yet to go out.
If you get lost And the surrounding starts To look unfamiliar, Call me. Even moths need sleep. I promise you're not disturbing Me.
We'll find another pit to hang around. If you get lost and don't feel That warmth around you. Don't you go getting lost on me, I'll be that lonely stubborn ember That refuses to go out One that keeps you warm Until you feel safe, And we both fall asleep There isn't a dark too deep That we can't explore Even if it's 4 a.m.