Fire is wicked
and my heart's set aflame-
over the water, no less,
it's an effortless game:

I win, you lose,
and we play again,
it's no matter of what we choose-
it's how we grow akin
to shadows, long, and days, so dreary
you'd think our wrongs were growing weary
(they aren't).

What a shame, this game
without an ounce of fame to your name;
but mine's a-shine, and I am fine,
and you still lie your head by mine.